Under My Thumb
by MiseryLovesCompany
Summary: Misery escapes her ruthless brother's only to get on Spot Conlon's bad side. Can she find peace in Manhattan or will she be drawn back into Brooklyn for good? (Ok that summary was stupid. But please read and review!)
1. Default Chapter

****** DISCLAIMER - - I do not own the Newsies or any of their characters although boy would I love to own Spot. The only characters I own are the ones I made up myself such as Bourbon, Ladybug, Rags, Misery, Pistol, blah blah blah.. Please read and review!! ***********  
  
It must be said that the first time I was ever acquainted with any of the newsies wasn't my shining moment. If I remember correctly I was being held up by my ankles over the East River in Brooklyn by one of Spot Conlon's many thugs. My eyes cast down towards the murky brown water; I closed them tightly and mouthed a silent prayer.  
  
"Are you gonna talk or do I have to drop ya?" It was difficult to focus my attention on the thick-armed, square-jawed boy who dangled me like a rag doll. For one, all the blood rushing to my head was making my sight swim. And the fact that I couldn't swim a stroke was rather first and foremost in my thoughts.  
  
"What were ya doin' spyin on us?" Gritting my teeth, I practically snarled up at the dolt of a boy.  
  
"I wasn't spying on ya you stupid ox, I was hiding." He shook my ankles a little bit, and loosened his grip before tightening it, jerking me to a halt. I could hear snickering and realized that the other boys standing around were enjoying this as much as the ox was.  
  
"Go ahead and drop me. I ain't telling you nothing else because there's nothing else to tell." The boy holding me shrugged heavy shoulders and smiled maliciously down at me before sneering.  
  
"Have it your way girlie." With that he let go of my ankles and I plummeted down towards the water hollering bloody murder. I made the mistake of gasping in a lungful of water as I hit the surface, and I frantically clawed my way to the surface. Coughing and spluttering, I managed to take a breath before I went under again. This happened at least two more times before I couldn't manage to stick my head above the surface. Feeling strangely calm, I started to sink and would have ended my days on the bottom of the river in Brooklyn if someone hadn't leapt into the water and hauled me out by the collar of my shirt.  
  
Dragging me up a ladder and depositing me none to gently onto the rough planks of the dock, I lay on my stomach spitting up water and hacking out my lungs. Then I looked up at the person who had jumped into the water after me. A rather pissed off looking boy was wringing water out of his brown trousers and white shirt. I could see a cap and a checkered vest flung onto the dock beside a pair of shoes that had a cigar poking out of one.  
  
"You could at least say thank you." The new voice made me jerk my head to the other side to where a boy with a red-checked shirt, black vest, red suspenders hanging down by his sides, black trousers and a gray cap was lounging on a crate. Cold blue eyes pierced into mine and I none to discreetly rolled onto my stomach again and proceeded to vomit up river- water. Cries of disgust followed my action along with some laughter.  
  
"There's your thanks, Racetrack," the boy with the icy blue eyes said laughingly. The short, dark-haired Italian looking boy made a face at the other and held out a hand to me, a smirk lighting his lean face. I let him pull me up till I was standing, and I shook his hand.  
  
"Thank you uh Racetrack?" He waved a hand and busied himself with lighting his cigar. The blue-eyed boy stood, and snapped at the surrounding boys all roughly dressed and with matching demeanors to get going to the Distribution Office. I could hear a bell ringing in the distance and judged it to be the afternoon signal of the evening edition. So these boys sold papers for a living. I watched them swagger off and thought that it was rather an un-fitting profession. Soon I was left with no one except Racetrack and Blue Eyes.  
  
"So Spot, what're we going to do with the dame?" I almost threw up again. What luck I had. First I had chosen the wrong dock to try to hide from my brother's and now I was in the company of one of the most notorious boys in New York City. I wondered if he would remember me. He was a lot older than the last time I had seen him. He had filled out his scrawny frame since then too. Shivering violently I prayed he wouldn't remember. It had been oh, five years since he and some of his newspaper friends had been graced with a beating from my brother's and some of their cronies. Still to this day if any of my brother's gang ran into any of Spot's, there was always a fight. I also knew that a week ago one of Spot's newsies had been killed by my oldest brother Murphy for two-dollars and twenty-five cents and a pocket watch. That was an event that was not likely to earn me a warm welcome in any of the newsie camps.  
  
"Jesus are you that cold? What's your name anyway?" I looked over to see Racetrack watching me with a concerned light in his eyes. Spot just lit a cigarette and looked at me like I was a piece of trash on the street.  
  
"Most people call me Misery." Racetrack looked slightly taken aback.  
  
"That ain't a nice name to call someone." I laughed a little before gathering my sopping wet auburn hair into one fist and squeezed some of the water out of it. I watched it splatter onto the dock my face a mask.  
  
"It's 'cuz I'm always miserable. Or at least that's what they think." I saw Spot's gaze sharpen.  
  
"Who's 'they'?" I glanced at him, met his gaze and tore my eyes away.  
  
"Nobody. Listen if you guys are done with me, I have to go. It's getting dark and I should uh get home." Racetrack seemed to notice my hesitation. I really had nowhere to go, and would have to find an alley somewhere that was safe.  
  
"You could always stay in Manhattan. We have a few girls who sell papers stayin' there now. It pisses Kloppman off to no end, but they just came one day and wouldn't leave."  
  
"But I don't sell papers."  
  
"Then what do you do?" I didn't like the questioning, hard tone that Spot was using with me. He was obviously less trusting than this Manhattan boy which wasn't surprising given which boroughs they were from. Tying my ruined shoes around my neck, I rolled my trouser pants up to my shins and buttoned my still soaked gray vest around my chest. I could see Spot eyeing me with disgust, looking me up and down.  
  
"Ain't you ever seen a girl dressed like a boy before?"  
  
"Not that often. It ain't right." I snorted at his condescending voice.  
  
"You work for Sears and Roebuck or somethin? Wanna tell me the latest fall fashions for women?" Spot's face darkened noticeably and Racetrack put his hand on my shoulder drawing me away.  
  
"Watch ya mouth I ain't above showing females how to behave." I didn't like the way he smacked the head of his gold-topped cane that had been leaning against his crate into the palm of his hand. Racetrack held up a placating hand to Spot.  
  
"Don't worry Brooklyn, we're leavin'. Poker game tomorrow?" Spot nodded his face returning to its normal color as he saw I was being taken away from him. A cool breeze made both Racetrack and I shudder as we started the trek from Brooklyn to Manhattan.  
  
"Where are you from kid?" I laughed because the boy looked to be about the same age as me, sixteen or seventeen. I liked the mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes and the easy way he smiled. There weren't too many people I knew who acted like that.  
  
"I don't know why they call you Misery. You don't seem that unhappy to me." I instantly sobered, reminded of why I was called what I was. Living with a group of young hooligans was enough to make any girl tear their hair out especially when her brother's did nothing to protect her. I had constantly had to endure crude jokes, roaming hands and the never- ending fear of being caught alone with one of them. I took to wearing boys clothing to make my figure less noticeable as I grew up, and was always walking around with a pitiful, sorrowful expression on my face. Thus why my brother Jamie christened me Misery. I had a real name, Caitlin. But it seemed that after I turned twelve no one called me by that name. It was either Misery or 'stupid girl' or 'little slut'. The last name was humorous to me since I had never lain with any of those ugly louts.  
  
"I'm from Brooklyn actually. I lived with my two brother's and they gave me that nickname. The reason I was hiding on Spot's dock was because I was running away from them." Racetrack raised an eyebrow at me. I was telling the truth, I was in fact born and raised near Green Point a small borough on the tip of Brooklyn near Long Island. Shaking his head in disbelief he tapped ash off of the end of his cigar.  
  
"You're from Brooklyn and Spot don't know ya? He knows everyone."  
  
"Well maybe he doesn't know EVERYONE," I huffed. If Spot remembered who I was then I was going to get a beating for sure. If not worse. Not that I had anything to do with my brother's activities, but I was still related to them. And if Spot was good at anything he was one of the best at holding grudges. Racetrack looked apologetically at me.  
  
"Hey sorry, I didn't mean for you to get ya panties in a twist. Truce?" We shook hands and continued on our way to the building where the Manhattan newsies lived. I was slightly apprehensive and yet elated to be out from under my brother's thumbs. It put a spring in my step that hadn't been there in years. I rubbed my hands together as inconspicuously as possible and tried to hide my gleeful smile. Maybe for once I could start to live my own damn life. 


	2. Chapter Two

A/N - Whoo boy it's nice to finally get back online. Sorry folks, I've been without a computer thus why I haven't been updating. But! Now here's a new chapter.  
  
Erin Sailor Ditz - I have started to read your story and I don't know what you're talking about, I think its fine. Besides you obviously have good taste. (Anyone who likes Spot does in my opinion) I don't flame people's writing, if I think I could suggest something that might help I will, but flaming isn't really necessary. Thanks for your review I hope you keep reading!  
  
Cabby1 - Sure I'll use your character, I'll email you or you can just send it to my hotmail addy on my profile page. Hopefully I can do it justice. I can't answer you about Racetrack, but he's Racetrack. He'll end up happy. Thanks for your review!  
  
WeBuiltThisCityOnRockAndRoll- Oh my god your name is awesome!! I agree with the accent thing. I think that a little bit of accent is okay, but once they start saying 'youse' and 'dat ting' every time they open their mouths it's tedious. There's nothing better than tension. It makes things SO much more enjoyable. Thanks for your review!  
  
KatFightOnSkis-Again another awesome name. Thanks, I only hope I can keep this story interesting the whole way through.  
  
Now, on with the story - A/N  
  
I nearly stumbled in my haste and excitement to keep up with Racetrack. He would give me amused glances every once in awhile and chomp on the end of an unlit cigar. He seemed to have a never ending supply of the things, once he was finished smoking one, another would magically appear. I found it hard to believe that he had the money for such a habit, but then I realized he probably either spent most of his paper money on cigars or stole them.  
"Now most girls get a little put out when they meet all the guys. There's a bunch of 'em and they all love the ladies. Except Skittery, but I think that he's just shy. Anyway, Jack Kelly otherwise known as Cowboy is the boss and it'll do ya good to remember that. What he says goes. He ain't exactly as intimidating as Spot, but the charm thing works for him." I nodded as I tried to commit this all to memory. Racetrack seemed to find that amusing as well and he chuckled around the stub of his cigar. A misty rain began to fall, soaking us lightly all over again. Luckily it was late August, and not that cold. Otherwise we would have most likely fallen sick from the exposure.  
"Bourbon is the head of the girls, but she still listens to Jack." Racetrack made a thoughtful grimace and snickered.  
"Well when she wants to. You'll be stayin' on her floor with her and the other dames. There's only a few of 'em, like I said before. They're mostly nice but if you cross any of 'em you got to deal with the whole pack plus any of the fellas that they've snagged." I looked sideways at Racetrack.  
"You been snagged yet?" His cheeks flushed a bright pink and he darted a look at me before shaking his head.  
"Shaddup kid, I'm tryin' to get you ready to live at the lodging house. Pay attention." But I could tell he wasn't entirely unpleased with the question. Before too long we had crossed the bridge and were standing in front of a ramshackle building that had a sign painted over the door that read 'Newsboys Lodging House'. Underneath it someone had tacked up a piece of rough wood and with childish handwriting had written 'And Newsgirls'. I found myself smiling openly at that, which didn't escape the notice of an old man who was sweeping the front stoop. He glowered at me from underneath caterpillar-like eyebrows.  
"Sweet Jesus son of Mary not another one. Damnit Racetrack these girls aren't like strays you just can't bring 'em home whenever you feel like it." Taken aback at his outburst, I looked up at Racetrack who had a broad grin on his face. Placing a hand in the small of my back, he gently steered me into the building, behind the old man who was storming towards a desk waving his broom around. The man slammed a worn ledger down in front of me and impatiently waited for me to sign it. Then he pointed with a gnarled, weathered finger towards a flight of stairs and slapped Racetrack upside the head as he herded me towards them.  
"Ah Kloppy you'll love her just like the rest in a week. You'll see. You're a sucker for broads too." I caught the wink and snort that the old man gave before he went back to sweeping, ranting and raving about irresponsibility. As we mounted the narrow staircase, Racetrack jerked a hand back towards the lobby.  
"That's Kloppman. He takes care of us and keeps the building er maintained. He also wakes us up in the morning so we can get to work on time. Don't try to ignore him; he'll dump ice water on ya." I could tell by the uncomfortable spasm that crossed Race's face that he had experienced that method firsthand. Boisterous voices filled the air as we neared an open door. Most were male but I could detect a few female tones as well. Nearly everyone stopped talking as we entered the room.  
I assumed as it was mid-evening by the time we had reached Manhattan that the evening addition had already been sold. My assumption would appear to be correct since there were quite a number of kids lounging on bunk beds or sitting around a rickety table that took up a corner of the room. A few other kids were shooting craps against the far wall with a pair of homemade dice. A tall well-formed boy pushed himself off of the top bunk he had been sitting on and landed on his feet in front of me with a small thud. Pushing a black cowboy hat off of his forehead so that it hung by its strings on his back, he crossed his arms and squinted down at me. Brown hair framed his handsome face, and he had a sparkle in his brown eyes. He was dressed as most of the others were a button-up shirt, vest, trousers, and battered shoes or boots. He wore a red bandanna around his neck and had a dime novel about the Old West stuck in the back pocket of his pants.  
"Who's the dame Race?" Another boy had joined the cowboy who I thought was most likely Jack Kelly. This one was blonde with one good laughing blue eye. The other was hidden behind a worn leather patch.  
"This is Misery. I saved her from Brooklyn." That apparently was all the explanation he needed to give as I was swarmed suddenly with pats on my back and sympathetic smiles. I was rapidly given the names of some twenty odd males, and seven or eight females. The girls weren't as friendly looking as the boys, which was understandable. They viewed me as a competition until I could prove myself to be a friend. The head of the girl faction, Bourbon had shouldered her way through the crowd to stand beside Jack. I instantly saw where she had gotten her name, although it could have been her love for the drink. She had incredible whiskey colored eyes that cut right through you. Her hair was also a shade or too darker than her eyes and her skin had a honey tone to it.  
She looked me up and down and stuck out her hand after spitting into it. I clasped it in mine readily which made her look at me with a calculating gaze. I hadn't shied away or professed disgust which made me at least of the working class or street rat level.  
"Misery huh? You can bunk with Ladybug she ain't got anyone using her bottom bunk."  
"Yeah that's cuz she wets the bed!" I heard someone crow before seeing a small girl dart out of the room in tears. Resounding slaps echoed in the room. The teaser had gotten what was coming to him. Bourbon shooed me out into the hallway and up another small flight of stairs into an attic that had been outfitted the same as the bunkroom below. There were a few single beds, obviously already occupied by the messy way their covers were thrown around on top of them. Bourbon saw me looking and gave me a wry smile.  
"Only old timers get the singles. You bunk up until one of us leaves and then you can take one. Ladybug doesn't wet the bed THAT much, but she is only five." I nodded in understanding as she gestured to a bunk that was untouched. The little girl was curled into a small ball on the top bunk, shaking with suppressed sobs. Bourbon reached up and clasped the girl to her chest, planting a smooch onto the blonde curls that covered the little girl's head.  
"Snitch didn't mean it, Ladybug. He's just being an ass." Ladybug stopped crying long enough to give Bourbon a wide-eyed reproachful look before speaking.  
"You said ass, Bourbon. That's wrong." Bourbon chortled and set the girl down onto the floor.  
"You bet I did kiddo. Now get back into that room and give Snitch a hard time. You gotta toughen up." With that she slapped the girl gently on the butt to get her started out the door. Once we were along, she crossed her arms and looked at me.  
"Well you don't have any stuff, which can only lead me to believe that you're a runaway with no time. So, if you need anything pipe up. The girls may be cold to you at first, but they're all softies here in Manhattan it's just the way it works. You want tough guys you go to Brooklyn." Here, she paused and smirked her glance taking in my damp clothing.  
"Although from the sounds of it you already had your fill of Brooklyn. And Spot too I bet. I'm sure once you feel like talking we'll hear all about it." We trooped down the stairs and I could hear Racetrack's voice above all the others.  
"And then she asked Spot if he worked for Sears and Roebuck and if he did could he tell her what the newest fashions for ladies was. Oh it was classic." Hoots and hollers followed his statement and I caught Bourbon smirking at me again.  
"Looks like Race told your story for ya. I can't wait to hear this one." And with that we entered the bunkroom to be greeted with laughter. I raised my eyes to the Heavens and shot up a silent prayer of Thanks. This seemed to be just the place for me right now. Now if I could only keep Spot Conlon from finding out who I really was and my brothers from finding me period, I was golden. 


	3. Chapter Three

The rest of the evening was spent getting to know the various boys and girls who  
  
called the lodging house home. I was particularly drawn to Bourbon, Racetrack, and a  
  
little boy who called himself Rags. Rags couldn't have been more than seven, and the  
  
reason for his name was apparently the outfit he had been wearing when he arrived on the  
  
doorstep his first day. He was now more appropriately clothed in trousers, a shirt, and a  
  
vest that were all too big for him. He ran around the boy's bunkroom with a bowler hat  
  
cocked crazily over one eye, an older boy named Specs chasing him.  
  
Catching Rags under one arm and holding him like a sack of flour, Specs jammed  
  
his hat back onto his head and winked merrily at Bourbon, Racetrack, and I before  
  
tweaking Rags' nose and throwing him onto the nearest bunk. I winced waiting for the  
  
sickening crack of head hitting headboard, but it seemed to be a common routine for  
  
Specs threw him safely into the center of the bed. Snitch was limping around muttering  
  
darkly to himself his cheeks rosy from getting slapped, and shins throbbing from  
  
Ladybug's retaliation.  
  
I met a few of the other girls, a little firecracker of a redhead named Pistol so  
  
named for her sharp wisecracks. She was my age, sixteen but looked younger because of  
  
her height and slender build. There was Flinch, a timid pale mouse of a girl with fading  
  
bruises on her arms and neck. I shuddered inwardly not wanting to know how such a little  
  
thing got those marks. Most of the girls were teenagers, except for Flinch and Ladybug. I  
  
met another girl named Peppermint who was licking her fingers steadily and sucking on a  
  
piece of the red and white striped candy she was named after. She was a young teenager,  
  
perhaps around thirteen or so. Her ginger colored hair was cropped to her shoulders and  
  
she looked at me blankly through hazel eyes. Nell was a tall girl with honey colored hair  
  
that fell past her shoulders in riots of curls. She looked to be Bourbon's age, around  
  
seventeen. She greeted me civilly enough, her violet eyes curious yet cautious. She was  
  
one of the few who were clothed in a stout skirt, blouse and shawl. The rest of the girls  
  
were comfortable to run around in boys clothing myself included. I was informed by  
  
Bourbon that the last girl who slept here was only a temporary. She apparently moved  
  
between Brooklyn and Manhattan regularly when anyone was hurt or sick and needed  
  
tending to.  
  
"Meesh is in Brooklyn right now. On account of those bums that are messing with  
  
Spot's boys. They got Loon today, almost right outside of the lodging house! Can you  
  
imagine that?" Bourbon's voice was thick with emotion. I saw more than one of the other  
  
boys clench their fists and mutter darkly. Loon was obviously well known and well liked.  
  
I felt something stick in my throat and swallowed with difficulty. This wasn't good if my  
  
brother's were out beating up Spot's boys for no reason.  
  
"Once we figure out a plan, those boys will get it." Jack's voice was strong with  
  
conviction and I felt a shiver trip down my spine. I had no doubt that Brooklyn and  
  
Manhattan combined would be more than enough to take my brother's out of business. I  
  
also knew suddenly why they must have gone after one of Spot's boys. When I had run  
  
away I had promised my brother Jamie that I would get even. He had laughed, but I had  
  
looked him in the eye and then turned to go. I knew that he understood what I meant. If I  
  
went to the cops and told them where the gang was living and when they pulled their  
  
heists, they would all get locked up for good. There were also a few murders that still  
  
hadn't been solved in the area. I knew where those bodies were and who had put them  
  
there.  
I was fairly certain that my brothers were choosing to look for me amongst the  
  
newspaper kids and also just releasing pent up aggression about the situation. Who better  
  
to beat on then younger smaller kids? I cursed myself silently for being so foolish. Here I  
  
thought I had freedom, but now I was going to be getting a lot of kids hurt if I stayed for  
  
my bold words and actions. I felt a hand rest on my shoulder and looked up from the  
  
chair where I was sitting. Racetrack was looking at me curiously, his dark brows drawn  
  
down in confusion.  
  
"Hey are you okay? You look like you're thinking so hard it hurts." I chuckled  
  
weakly, a sound that was drowned out in the sudden thunderous pounding of boots on the  
  
stairs. Looking over, I saw Spot Conlon standing in the doorway a smirk lighting his lean  
  
face.  
"Poker gentlemen?" Racetrack leapt to his feet and hollered his agreement before  
  
making me pull my chair next to his at the table.  
  
"You sit by me; I don't want Brooklyn giving you any trouble." Indeed another  
  
glance in Spot's direction saw his gaze resting on me, a wicked look in his icy eyes. He  
  
strode towards the table and flopped loosely into the seat on my other side before  
  
Bourbon could slide into it. Giving him a look, she leaned up against the wall next to us,  
  
crossing her arms over her chest. A few of Spot's goons joined us, one being the boy who  
  
that very morning had held me by my ankles over the East River. He raked his eyes over  
  
me, a malicious smile on his lips. I coldly clenched my hand into a fist and flicked a  
  
finger at him in an obscene gesture that made his eyes widen in anger. Jerking towards  
  
me, he found himself nose to nose with an irate Racetrack.  
  
"Lay off Knuckles, she's a Manhattan kid now." Racetrack's accent was thick and  
  
he sounded like he originally came from Long Island. I saw the tension in his fingers as  
  
he rested his hands flat on the table in front of him in an effort to restrain himself. The  
  
rest of the room hadn't noticed the situation at the table yet. I looked at Spot, furious that  
  
he wasn't doing anything to keep his boy in check. I was met with raised eyebrows and  
  
an innocent look that was anything but. Finally sighing in irritation, Spot slapped his gold  
  
topped black cane in-between the two boys and stood up. He wasn't an overly tall boy,  
  
nor was he as thick with muscles as Knuckles was. But his manner was in- your-face  
  
intimidating. Cocking his head at an angle he shoved Knuckles away from Race with a  
  
hand.  
"Enough with the bullshit Knuckles. You've both made your point. Any more  
  
trouble out of either of you and I'll soak ya myself." He included me in his hostile  
  
glower which I tried to meet without faltering. I looked away too quickly however and I  
  
heard his low chuckle. Reseating himself beside me he looked up at Racetrack  
  
impatiently.  
  
"Are you going to deal this game or what?" Muttering to himself Racetrack sat  
  
down and started to shuffle a very worn and dog-eared deck of playing cards.  
  
"I thought you weren't coming till tomorrow," Jack appeared then a bottle of  
  
something alcoholic in one of his hands which he passed to Spot. Spot took a healthy  
  
swallow, sighing in satisfaction once he finished before handing it to Bourbon. I watched  
  
Bourbon drain a good sized portion of the liquid and knew with a slight twinge that her  
  
name not only came from her eyes but also her liking for the liquor. Jack and Spot shot  
  
her disapproving looks which she waved at with one hand.  
  
"Yeah well, tomorrow looks like we're going to be busy. I sent out Fog and  
  
Runner tonight to get a handle on where those bastards are that feel the need to beat up  
  
my boys. Once I can figure out where they are and scout their territory then I can come  
  
up with a plan." Jack nodded and I almost opened my mouth before I realized it to tell  
  
him that I knew where my brothers were. Spot looked at me queerly and I saw that I had  
  
indeed opened my mouth as if to speak. Blushing foolishly I held out a hand for the  
  
brown bottle that Bourbon held. She handed it over and I took a long drink. Raw, strong  
  
whiskey flooded my mouth and throat. I licked my lips when I was done and enjoyed the  
  
warm fuzzy feeling it made as it sank into my stomach. Raising my eyes I saw Racetrack  
  
grinning at me and Spot looking at me in a way I couldn't define.  
  
"Good stuff," I croaked out finally when my vocal chords decided to work.  
  
Bourbon laughed and slapped me on the back before capturing the bottle in her ink-  
  
stained hand once more. Sauntering off towards the boys playing craps, Jack and Spot  
  
watched her go.  
  
"I won't be seeing that bottle again," Jack said ruefully. Spot shook his head and  
  
quirked an eyebrow at the departing girl's back.  
  
"She getting bad?" Jack nodded and Spot exhaled a deep breath. I actually  
  
thought I saw regret flash across his face before he caught me looking and the tough  
  
mask was instantly replaced. The arrogant light returned to his blue eyes and I finally  
  
made myself look away. Three other boys had joined us at the table, all Manhattan kids. I  
  
had just met them myself but they interacted with everyone at the table warmly. Except  
  
for Spot, I noticed. The only one who seemed easy with his company was Jack and  
  
Racetrack. The boy with the eye-patch was one of the newcomers. He gave Spot a wide  
  
berth sitting on the other side of the table. Flashing me a cocky grin, I remembered his  
  
name was Kid Blink.  
  
The other boy who sat by Blink's side was his opposite in looks. While Blink had blonde hair and blue eyes with pale skin, this boy had curly dark brown hair, a dusky  
  
olive complexion and warm brown eyes. I knew his name was Mush and the two boys  
  
were rarely separated. Watching their boyish antics with amusement I took a cigarette  
  
offered to me by Jack who had taken Bourbon's position leaning up against the wall near  
  
me and Spot. The third boy sat quietly near Blink and Mush, his crutch leaning up against  
  
a chair. I hadn't noticed him in the early shuffle of greetings. He had brown eyes that  
  
were both intelligent and naïve and a nose that was a trifle too large for his pale face. His  
  
hair was curly like Mush's but lighter in color. If his nose was too big it at least matched  
  
his ears which were a little on the large side as well. When he spoke it was usually  
  
followed by a laugh. In truth he was the happiest looking cripple I had ever seen.  
  
"That's Crutchy," I heard Jack say into my ear blowing a cloud of smoke past my  
  
face. I struck a match on the table and lit a cigarette much to the dismay of Spot, who  
  
muttered something about 'dames shouldn't smoke' before giving me a disgusted look I  
  
was beginning to become very familiar with. Rolling my eyes and exhaling loudly, I  
  
caught Jack's amused smirk and Racetrack murmuring a prayer under his breath.  
  
"Something wrong.....Misery?" I met Spot's cool gaze with my irritated  
  
green eyes and pointed my smoking cigarette at him.  
  
"Yeah what's your problem with me?" Lighting a cigarette of his own he inhaled  
  
sharply and then exhaled just as pointedly. Taking his cap off he set it onto the table and  
  
placed his cane next to it. Shuffling through the hand of cards that Racetrack had just  
  
dealt, I realized that he was stalling on purpose to annoy me.  
  
"An answer would be nice." Slowly and steadily he set his cards down onto the  
  
scarred, rough wooden surface of the table and lifted his eyes once more to mine.  
  
"I have problems to deal with Misery, which don't include a snippity new girl  
  
with a death wish. You remind me of someone and it's pissing me off that I can't  
  
remember who." My heart lurched and I looked away quickly.  
  
"Too bad for you then Conlon," was all I managed furious at the lack of heat in  
  
my voice. Better to let Spot forget I existed. If that meant not standing up for myself, so  
  
be it. At least for the time being. The rest of the night passed without incident except for  
  
another run in with Spot that occurred when he was entering the washroom as I was  
  
leaving it. I'm not a very tall girl, and neither am I a horribly skinny thing. I felt  
  
threatened by Spot as he backed me against the wall his nose an inch away from mine. I  
  
could smell the whiskey on his breath and see the cold fire in his eyes that fueled his  
  
infamous temper. He informed me that he was going to figure out who I was and what I  
  
was doing at his docks that morning if it was the last thing he did.  
  
Lifting my chin I glared right back at him. His eyes held mine and couldn't  
  
breathe in fear, or anticipation I couldn't figure out which.  
  
"Don't...toy...with me Misery. I WILL find out if you mean any harm to any  
  
of us newsies. Mark my words, I'll stick to you like glue if that's what it takes." I must  
  
have made a face because he snickered and pulled away from me. Watching him  
  
swagger into the washroom, I made my way back to the bunkroom with unseemly haste.  
  
WeBuiltThisCityOnRockAndRoll - How could anyone not love rock and roll? I'll never know. And since I love your reviews I double or at least spaced this out a bit for ya. Race is definitely going to get a girl but I haven't decided who yet. He deserves some female lovin' after getting put in slash's so much.  
  
KatFightOnSkis - Is this quick enough? Hehe...I'm caught up in this story so I had to write more and update it. Yeah Ladybug is definitely a cutie. Thanks for your review!  
  
Cabby1 - I started using your character but she won't be more incorporated until the next chapter. Then hopefully I can relate her the way you described her! I really like Bourbon's character too. Thanks for letting me use your character. I'm not sure who Race and Spot are going to end up with yet so I'll think about it. ; ) 


	4. Chapter Four

Back in the bunkroom I slid into the empty chair next to Racetrack. Most of the  
  
newsies were starting to get bored with the craps and poker games and were getting  
  
ready for bed. I saw a frustrated Jack trying to talk a highly intoxicated Bourbon into  
  
giving him the near empty whiskey bottle and going to sleep. Pouting like a little girl she  
  
finally gave in when Mush swept her off of her feet and headed towards the attic stairs.  
  
Racetrack was piling his cards up neatly and he looked at me as I sat down.  
  
"You tired yet?" When I shook my head he put his cigar onto a chipped old  
  
ceramic plate that served as an ashtray and jerked his head upwards.  
  
"It's early yet so some of us might go to Medda's. Not to mention it's Saturday  
  
night."  
  
"Who's going?" I saw Race's jaw muscles clench slightly before his eyes darted  
  
towards Spot who was leaning against a wall shamelessly flirting with Nell. My eyes  
  
followed Racetrack's and Spot happened to look in my direction. Our eyes caught and he  
  
held my gaze as if daring me to break away first. I did so trying to put a nonchalant look  
  
on my face. Pursing my lips in sympathy I patted Racetrack's arm.  
  
"Do you like her?" Racetrack let out a guffaw and grinned at me his eyes  
  
brightening.  
  
"Nah that ain't it Misery. He can have her, I don't care about that."  
  
"It's just that he don't share and once a girl's had Brooklyn nothing else is good  
  
enough for her." Kid Blink slung an arm around Racetrack's shoulders and grumpily  
  
watched Spot work his magic with Nell along with Race and I. I snorted and took a few  
  
puffs off of Race's cigar to which he responded by playfully cuffing me upside the head.  
  
"I don't see how that's possible. You Manhattan boys have lots up on Brooklyn  
  
and I've only just met you guys." Both boys turned their attention to me, their eyes  
  
interested.  
  
"How do you figure?" Blink nudged my butt over and shared the seat of my chair  
  
with me. I took a cigarette from him and tucked my hair behind my ears.  
  
"It's like this. Yeah a lot of girls like the powerful, tough, sarcastic type." I  
  
inclined my head towards Spot and Nell.  
  
"Like Mr. Conlon over there. Now others like guys who are fun and who actually  
  
give a shit about them. You know someone who will help you forget a rough day at the  
  
factory and not pick a damn fight with you." Racetrack's brown eyes met mine and I  
  
couldn't read them.  
  
"What type do you prefer?" Blink's eyes darted between the both of us a faint  
  
smile playing on his lips.  
  
"Er, well actually, I'm not sure yet. All my life I've been around guys like him,"  
  
my derisive tone indicated Spot.  
  
"I guess I don't really have a type. I think it would depend on the person." Just  
  
then a rough voice broke into our little group's conversation.  
  
"If you ladies are done the little kiddies need to sleep so if we're going to  
  
continue we should move to Medda's." I saw Blink and Race bristle at Spot referring to  
  
them as 'ladies' as he moved to the table, his arm around Nell's waist. Shooting Race a  
  
warning look, Blink rose as did the rest of us. I looked around and saw only a few others  
  
who weren't tired and willing to go out. Mush, Skittery, Jack, Pistol, Nell, Spot, Blink,  
  
Race, and I all silently trooped down the stairs and out the door into the warm Manhattan  
  
night. I hadn't seen Spot send his boys back to Brooklyn, but they must have left earlier.  
  
What with my brother's on the prowl I was surprised Spot was staying out as well. But he  
  
seemed to be throwing his cares to the wind as we all sauntered down the sidewalk  
  
mingling with the rest of the people out enjoying the nice evening. Pistol was rather  
  
sauced as well, a fact she displayed by hanging onto Jack's sleeve and hollering  
  
nationalist Irish songs at the top of her lungs. I saw Spot grinning at her in approval and  
  
felt a tug at my own insides. I remembered my father telling me stories about ancient  
  
Ireland and its druids and warriors and singing me songs from the Old Country before he  
  
left.  
"Someday Caitlin," he used to say to me when he'd have me on his knee in front  
  
of the little stove in our old kitchen.  
  
"Someday I'll take ye and your brothers away to meet your Granda in Donegal.  
  
It'll be grand, I promise ye." Then when my mother had succumbed to consumption, a  
  
disease she had contracted while still over in Ireland, my father had left me to the mercies  
  
of my two older brothers to raise me. Something that I had learned to hate the father I  
  
used to love for doing. My brothers had always been cruel, even as children. Lashing out  
  
at weaker kids and taking what they wanted from them. They acted like everyone else  
  
was put on this Earth to serve them. It was this dominant trait they both shared that  
  
ultimately had lead to their war with Spot Conlon.  
  
My oldest brother Murphy, who was now twenty-one, had been the old leader of  
  
the Brooklyn newsies. My brother Jamie who was now nineteen had obviously been his  
  
second-in-command. They had taken the group over by force and had overcharged the  
  
other boys to stay in the lodging house pocketing the extra money. That was only part of  
  
what they had done. Besides treating the newsboys like scum and making them fend for  
  
themselves. It wasn't until Spot Conlon who was then only a youngster of thirteen but  
  
with his legendary reputation already growing stepped up and made a stand. The  
  
infamous row that followed was the fight I spoke of that happened five years ago. My  
  
brother's beat Spot and his boys to bloody pulps but in the end they managed to kick  
  
them out of the lodging house. The gang my brother's ran now was all old newsboys  
  
from those days who had chosen to try bigger and better things under their leadership,  
  
and had left with my brothers when they were kicked out.  
  
I had grown up listening to my brother's curse Spot Conlon's name. They felt like  
  
they had been cheated out of what had shown itself to be a profitable career, exploiting  
  
the newsboys. I sometimes wondered if they actually thought that the boys would have  
  
taken their abuse forever. So in retaliation they spent the next five years beating up any of  
  
Spot's boys when they came across them and stealing whatever pocket change they had  
  
on them. Murphy would usually rip up any newspapers the unlucky kid had on them too.  
  
There had been many street brawls between the gangs but ultimately my brother's and  
  
their boys were bigger and older. They would usually fend off Spot's boys long enough  
  
to retreat to lick their wounds for another day. Most times the two groups fought it ended  
  
in draws because they would all get exhausted. Murphy and Jamie only left off  
  
terrorizing the Brooklyn newsies when they got wrapped up in a heist or planning a  
  
murder of someone who opposed them or insulted them.  
  
I felt a flash of hatred surge through me. One day someone would put those two  
  
away. It wasn't right how long they had gone on doing what they did. Sure they got  
  
arrested, but they bribed the cops now so that it had been at least a year since one of them  
  
had gotten hauled in. Thoughtfully I tapped a finger on my chin. My brother's in all truth  
  
weren't looking for me exactly. I knew that they could care less if I was living with them  
  
or not. They were looking for me to tell them where I had hidden my diary. Ah, a girl's  
  
diary. The place where she can bare her soul and write her innermost feelings, the place  
  
where she can write down all the names of the dirty cops who had been bribed. Also the  
  
judges, and the locations along with the identities of the bodies her brother's had dumped.  
  
"Jesus Christ you think too much." I almost leapt out of my skin as Racetrack's  
  
voice invaded my thoughts. He pulled me away from the streetlamp I had been about to  
  
smack face-first into with a smirk on his face. Turning red with embarrassment I gave  
  
Race a little smile. I felt someone watching me and almost tripped when I looked over to  
  
see Spot Conlon himself staring at me a thoughtful look in his eyes. I knew he was trying  
  
to figure out where he knew me from and it would only be a matter of time before he did.  
  
Unfortunately for me Spot was one of the smarter ones. As if reading my mind, Spot  
  
swung away from Nell suddenly and swaggered to my side. Nell immediately got a pout  
  
on her face and haughtily sniffed before latching on to Mush.  
  
"So Misery," Spot twirled his cane in-between his dirty fingers and looked at me  
  
arrogantly.  
  
"What part of Brooklyn are you from again?" I felt my mind go blank as I looked  
  
dumbly back at him. I had told Racetrack I was from Green Point, which was the truth.  
  
He didn't know where Spot's adversaries called home and Spot himself didn't know my  
  
brother's exact location. He knew they came from near Long Island but telling him I used  
  
to live in Green Point was too much information. Casting a glance back at Racetrack who  
  
had fallen behind me when Spot came over, I pitched my voice slightly low hoping he  
  
wouldn't hear me lie.  
  
"Uhm I lived near the Navy Yard with my ma and sister." He raised an eyebrow at me.  
  
"Oh yeah? Your dad a sailor?" I shrugged and muttered something noncommittal.  
  
Spot paused in his questioning to light a cigarette before stopping me by holding his cane  
  
in my way. Giving the other newsies a look of pure ice that was meant to keep them  
  
walking, he even deterred Racetrack who stopped when we did then at Spot's look turned  
  
away slowly. Waiting until the others were on their way again towards Medda's he  
  
herded me into a nearby alley and backed me up against a brick wall.  
  
"I think you're a fucking liar," he said his voice even and steady. I hid the fear  
  
that was welling up in my chest and snarled back at him.  
  
"Yeah well I think you're a fucking asshole," I spat. Spot smiled mirthlessly and  
  
exhaled a cloud of smoke into my face. I didn't flinch, just glared back at him. Growing  
  
up with my brother's and his goons had taught me one useful thing. How to deal with  
  
them and others like them.  
  
"Oh yeah? Is that so?" He bent and angled his head so that he was in my face his  
  
eyes burning with contempt. I pushed at his chest and he laughed deep in his throat. Just  
  
then we heard shouts and looked up towards the mouth of the alley. Two cops were  
  
chasing a raggedly dressed man. Spot swore and grabbing my shoulder yanked me deeper  
  
into the alley and threw me up against a doorway leading into a tenement.  
  
"Work with me," he growled warningly. Confused I opened my mouth to ask him  
  
what the Hell he was talking about when suddenly he wrapped his arms around me and  
  
kissed me, turning his back to the rest of the alley and the three men rapidly heading  
  
towards us. My mind was absolutely frozen as I felt his mouth moving against mine and I  
  
squeezed my eyes shut in embarrassment. He smelled like the East River and tasted like  
  
cigarettes. I heard the thundering footsteps of the men pass us by and opened my eyes  
  
when Spot finally pulled away. Straightening his cap he slid his cane into a belt loop so  
  
that it hung from his waist and lit another cigarette. He started to walk away then turned  
  
around to look at me. I must have had a look of utter confusion on my face because he  
  
stifled a laugh .  
"Coppers are looking for me around here. Say I stole some food from that fat fuck  
  
who sells baked goods near the Square. Are you coming? I don't want to hang out in this  
  
alleyway all night." Silently I nodded and followed him out onto the street where he  
  
handed me a cigarette from a little sack he wore around his neck. Now I was really lost.  
  
"Why the hell are you being nice to me?" Spot looked at me incredulously and  
  
then chuckled.  
  
"You got balls kiddo, that's why. Not many people talk back to Brooklyn." I  
  
rolled my eyes at the conceited way he referred to himself as his borough. Blowing  
  
smoke out of my nostrils I stalked alongside him.  
  
"Don't forget I'm Brooklyn too y'know," I shot back.  
  
"One second I'm a liar and then the next you're giving me cigarettes. I don't get  
  
you Conlon." Spot shrugged and casually draped an arm around my shoulder.  
  
"Not many people do dollface. So are you going to stay attached to Racetrack's  
  
side or are you gonna get to know some of the real men?" Looking at him in disgust I  
  
threw his arm off of me.  
  
"Racetrack has been nothing but nice to me which is more than I can say for  
  
others. I didn't see you jumping into the river to fish me out when your goon dropped me  
  
in. Besides I thought you liked him." Spot flicked his cigarette onto the cobblestones and  
  
nodded his head.  
  
"I do like him he's my pal." I threw my hands up and cried out in frustration.  
  
Quickening my pace I left Spot behind but not for long. He caught up to me easily, his  
  
face alight with laughter. It was amazing the change that happened to his features when  
  
he smiled or laughed. He looked almost human instead of the stone-cold mask he wore  
  
most often. We started to slow down our fast pace as we reached Irving Hall where the  
  
others were loitering outside waiting for us. Spot leaned down to whisper in my ear as we  
  
approached.  
  
"Don't think 'cuz we're starting to get on friendlier terms that I still believe you.  
  
I'm still going to find out what you're all about." With that he winked at me and strode  
  
ahead joining the other newsies. I shook my head and glared at his back before throwing  
  
my cigarette down onto the ground and stomping on it angrily. This was going to be a  
  
long night.  
  
Irish Fury - Thank you so much! I hope you keep reading.  
  
Maybe I Don't Wanna Go - Hmm we'll see what happens. Personally I think you may be right but there could be someone else she ends up with. Gee I wonder who, lol ; ) Thanks for your review!!  
  
Tiger And Libs - I agreed with you and tried to put some more background into this chapter. I hope it makes sense. Thanks for your review.  
  
Cabby1 -- *claps hands* I'm glad you're happy!! I'm sorry Meesh wasn't in this chapter but she'll be in the next one. Thank you for the character and the review!!  
  
Brooke Lyn - Thank you! Such kind words. (  
  
WeBuiltThisCityOnRockAndRoll - Hey I'm up for doing anything to make the story easier to read for the people who read it! I felt so bad for Race when he got slapped in Analyze This. Mean mobsters. Hehehe.Yes Race is going to be very protective of Misery. I love Racetrack too he's one of my favorites. He's such a smartass it's great. I hope that my story will stay making sense. LEMME KNOW IF IT DOESN'T!!  
  
To the person who emailed me with the addy of PokeyD730 - I tried to email you back but it wouldn't let me send it through. Just send me your character's info it you still want me to use it. Thanks!! 


	5. Chapter Five

Racetrack and the others gave Spot and I curious looks as we walked up to them,  
  
both trying to act as if nothing had happened. I could still feel the hard press of his lips  
  
against mine and I spat angrily onto the sidewalk. Looking up I saw him smirking at me a  
  
knowing look in his eyes.  
  
"Misery are you okay?" Racetrack had a worried look on his face and I schooled  
  
my features into a pleasant mask aware that the disgusted look I must have been giving a  
  
second before gave away too much. Nodding, I looped my arm through his and we swept  
  
into Medda's dancehall. The light was dim as we made our way up a grand staircase  
  
covered in plush red velvet carpeting. I made a sound low in my throat of wonder at the  
  
beautiful chandelier that hung at the top of the landing. Racetrack smiled indulgently at  
  
me and pointed his cigar up at it.  
  
"Ain't that the best? Medda really knows how to furnish a joint." I agreed quietly  
  
and he took me the rest of the way into a large room. There was a balcony with row after  
  
row of seats and down below on the main floor there were tables with candles serving as  
  
both decoration and a source of light in the center of each one. The room was more than  
  
half full and bustling with activity. Men occupied both the balcony seats and tables  
  
smoking, drinking, and talking. I saw groups of young men and women scattered here  
  
and there and boys and girls who were dressed like the newsies flitting from group to  
  
group. Jack and Spot both excused themselves to go talk to a broad shouldered boy with  
  
a hideous scar down one side of his face who Racetrack told me was the leader of the  
  
Midtown newsies.  
  
"The boroughs each have their own section that they sit in when they come here,  
  
but the kids go back and forth to talk to friends. That over there where Jack and Spot are  
  
belongs to Midtown. Our section is up front along with Brooklyn's." Surprisingly there  
  
were a few kids seated at the large table that belonged to Brooklyn. I saw Spot hightail it  
  
over there after greeting Midtown and sit down next to a boy with the reddest hair I had  
  
ever seen and a girl with brown hair that hung in a braid past her shoulders and a brown  
  
tweed cap cocked jauntily on her head. I saw Spot point at me with his cane and suddenly  
  
was under the assessment of three pairs of cool eyes. Stiffening, I looked down at my  
  
feet. Racetrack gave a low whistle.  
  
"Wow Spot just ain't letting you rest is he? You must really rub him the wrong  
  
way for some reason."  
  
"Maybe he's got the hots for her," Mush said pushing past us to flop into a seat at  
  
the Manhattan table. Racetrack gave him a dirty look and I would have laughed at the  
  
comical puppy-dog face Mush gave him back.  
  
"Whadid I say?" Pistol cackled and gave Mush a wet willy which he yowled in  
  
protest at and socked her on the arm. This brought about a scuffle that ended when Jack  
  
came over and threw Pistol over his shoulder. Yelping in shock, she promised to behave.  
  
"Christ, yer all animals I tell ya." Jack gave us an evil eye all around before sitting  
  
down next to Racetrack and I. A waitress came over and everyone ordered pints as the  
  
lights began to dim. I didn't notice that the Brooklyn newsies had situated themselves  
  
closer to the side of the table I was sitting at. Our drinks came and then a spotlight shown  
  
on the stage. The boys immediately began to clap and whistle as a woman appeared  
  
wearing a black and red burlesque costume that left little to the imagination. Her hair was  
  
red and her makeup immaculate. She began to trill a song in a rough Swedish accent  
  
which amused the newsies around me to no end.  
  
"The funny thing is she's from Queens, born and raised," Jack whispered to me  
  
his voice dancing with amusement. The woman had danced close to the edge of the stage  
  
and swept a large feather fan across Skittery, Mush, and Blink's faces to which they  
  
replied with roaring cries and whistles. I hid a smile behind my hand as it was obvious  
  
the boys were all enamored with her. By the time the woman, who I had been informed  
  
was Medda herself had finished her first song, I was half-way through my second pint. It  
  
worried me a little as I hadn't been drinking as much before I made my way to  
  
Manhattan. I used to be able to drink even my brother's under the table and they drank  
  
every day. After my mother died my father drank whiskey like it was water so alcohol  
  
was nothing new to us. As Medda left the stage to be replaced by a line of chorus girls, I  
  
was taken aback to see Spot sitting at my elbow, four of his newsies arrayed around him.  
  
With shaking hands I accepted my third pint from the waitress and lit a cigarette.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Spot studying me again with that frosty,  
  
unblinking stare.  
  
"So you think you could out drink me?" I smirked at him arrogantly to which I  
  
saw a flicker of surprise enter his gaze. Blowing a smoke ring I leaned close to him.  
  
"Anytime." I saw his lips quirk up and he held out a hand silently which I took  
  
into my own in a tight handshake.  
  
"Good, I pick the poison. Whiskey," he commanded the waitress as she bent over  
  
to take his order. I heard him order a whole bottle and two shot glasses and grimaced as  
  
my stomach did a turn.  
  
"Is there a reason that you feel the need to harass me?" He looked at me and  
  
shook his head.  
  
"I'll harass you for whatever reason I feel like and I sure as hell don't have to tell  
  
you why." Hearing snickers I looked at the other newsies of his at the table. The red  
  
haired boy was lean with a gawky appearance. He had hazel eyes and his face had bruises  
  
that were faded to a dark yellow. The girl blinked back at me solemnly. She wore a white  
  
shirt with green stripes and dark brown pants that had seen better days. I saw her dart  
  
furtive glances in Jack's direction when she thought nobody was looking. She had a cute  
  
face, one would never say she was a drastic beauty but she was by no means ugly. The  
  
other two were hulking brutes with bruised knuckles and stoic expressions on their faces.  
  
"Spot maybe you should lay off a little bit huh? Misery ain't done nothing to us."  
  
Spot and I both looked at Jack stoically. I knew as not only a newcomer but a potential  
  
threat that I had a lot to prove to them. More apparently to Brooklyn then my new home,  
  
Manhattan. The Manhattan boys seemed to take outsiders in with open arms which  
  
wasn't an altogether wise idea. Spot maybe felt threatened by the fact that I was from  
  
Brooklyn and he had no idea who I was and I had showed up hiding at his docks a week  
  
after one of his newsies had been murdered. It was a good assumption and one I felt was  
  
more than likely true.  
  
"We're just having a friendly little competition aren't we Misery?" Spot spread  
  
his hands wide and raised his eyebrows in innocence that was feigned or I was the Virgin  
  
Mary. I just nodded and clenched a fist as the waitress put the bottle of whiskey down  
  
onto the table followed by two clean shot glasses. Medda had taken the stage again and  
  
was singing a lively rousing number. As Spot and I began to down shot after shot of the  
  
burning amber liquid I made my stomach muscles into a tight knot to combat any  
  
nauseous feelings that would undoubtedly arise.  
Half-way through the bottle I felt my head start to swim and I glanced at Spot to  
  
see how he was faring. His pale face was flushed and he had a glint in his eyes. The  
  
Manhattan newsies were half paying attention to the show on stage and the show here at  
  
our tables. I felt slightly nervous as I realized that Spot was no stranger to the drink. He  
  
wasn't even slurring his words and we still had a quarter of the bottle left. Suddenly he  
  
belched and laughed and I knew by the pitch of his voice that he was intoxicated. I was  
  
highly under the influence myself. His hand wobbling slightly he poured us out a shot  
  
each and looked at the empty bottle.  
  
"Ready?" I held up my glass and we tipped them back. This time I belched and I  
  
heard laughter and saw Racetrack and Mush grinning at me. I held up my hands in  
  
victory.  
  
"Thank you, thank you." I then saw a half-empty pint glass on the table and  
  
downed it without pause. Slamming the glass down I gave Spot a look.  
  
"I do believe I just out-drank you sir." His mouth gaped open.  
  
"No you didn't that wasn't yours and I don't have one to try to drink." I shrugged  
  
and he glared at me.  
  
"Enough you two, you guys are sauced." Jack's voice was strong and he thumped  
  
a fist down onto the table. Spot looked at him ready for a fight, but then slumped his  
  
shoulders and chuckled.  
  
"Jackie-boy thinks he's tough," Spot hissed at me in what was supposed to be a  
  
whisper but was rather loud. The both of us broke into peals of drunken laughter. I saw a  
  
contemplative look on Racetrack's face as he hauled me up into a standing position.  
  
"C'mon girlie it's time to get headin'." I nodded grinning foolishly and stole the  
  
cigar out of his mouth. He looked at me warily but didn't make a fuss as I stumbled along  
  
behind him puffing contentedly. Pistol slung an arm around my shoulders and this time  
  
she had company singing her Irish fight songs.  
  
"It hung above the kitchen fire. It's barrel long and brown And one day with a boy's desire, I climbed and took it down My father's eyes in anger flashed. He cried ""what have you done?! I wish you'd left it where it was, That's my old Fenian gun"".  
  
I fondled it with love and pride. I looked it o'er and o'er I placed it on my shoulder And I marched across the floor My father's anger softened And he shared my boyish fun "Ah, well"" he said "'tis in your breed like that old Fenian gun".  
  
I remember '67 well when lads like you and me All thought we'd strike another blow to set old Ireland free. But broken were our golden hopes I was long months on the run But it did good work for Ireland then that brown old Fenian gun.  
  
I was down then in Killaluk t'was the hottest fight of all. And you can see he burned his arm there's a mark still on the ball I hope the young lads growing now will hold the ground we won And not disgrace the cause in which I held that Fenian gun  
  
I placed it o'er the fire once more. I heard my father sigh I knew his thoughts were turning back on days now long gone by And then I vowed within my heart I'll be my father's son And if ever Ireland wants my aid I'll hold the Fenian gun.  
  
That's years ago I've grown a man And I've weathered many a gale This last long year's been spent inside a gloomy English jail I've done my part I'll do it still Until the fight is won When Ireland's free she'll bless the men Who held the Fenian gun."  
  
The boys hushed us after that song darting glances around on the  
  
nearly empty streets. It wouldn't do for anyone against the fighting in  
  
Ireland to catch us singing songs like that. I saw Spot and the girl  
  
newsie from Brooklyn looking at me with respect in their eyes and I  
  
smiled to myself before tripping and almost falling on my face.  
  
Racetrack caught me and I smiled blearily up at him.  
  
"Oh Race, such a nice boy you are. What would I do without you?"  
  
His face burned in embarrassment and he slung me over his shoulder  
  
after gently telling me to shut my yap much to the amusement of  
  
everyone else.  
  
"Racetrack's got a girl," Mush and Kid Blink danced around  
  
shouting in sing-song voices. Racetrack growled at them and I giggled  
  
bouncing against his back. The last thing I remember before I slid into  
  
a blessed state of unconsciousness was the displeased look on Spot  
  
Conlon's face.  
  
A/N - I'm not sure when that song titled 'The Old Fenian Gun' was written but it's been done by various artists such as Sean Dunphy, Pat Daly and Willie Brady. -  
  
Pokey7 - Hehe, I think everyone wants Race and Misery to get together but I may have other ideas for the both of them...  
  
Erin Sailor Ditz - Who knows what could happen unfortunately I control these characters based on whims, muahah.. Fortunately for them my favorite newsies will not go unhappy.  
  
Maybe I Don't Wanna Go - Patience m'dear all will occur in due time. That is a coincidence! I want to go to Ireland SO BAD!!! Someday I will.  
  
We Built This City On Rock and Roll - Oh my god I want to hear Max Casella singing like Bugs Bunny, that sounds like a riot! Yes I'm hoping that the tension between the three adds something to the story because I'm sure diggin' it.  
  
Cabby1 - Racetrack struck me as the kind of guy who would have a smart mouth but be very shy around girls, I dunno. That's how I'm writing him as. And yes Spot is very much going to be an obstacle. I'm still not sure who I want her with if either of them. 


	6. Chapter Six

A/N - Yeesh is it just me or do I update too fast? Oh well.  
  
I opened my eyes to find a pair of curious blue ones an inch away from my face. They widened in shock and I saw a little blonde curly haired head scamper away from my bunk. Groaning I shut my eyes as tightly as I possibly could until I heard a man hollering for all the kids to get the hell out of bed. His voice penetrated my brain painfully and I rubbed my temples feeling sick. My tongue felt like it was a lump of wool sitting in my mouth as I smacked my lips and rolled over.  
  
"If you don't get up I'll tell Ladybug to wet the bed on purpose." I cracked open an eye to see Bourbon standing next to my bunk looking like she would rather be anything but awake herself. We studied each other grimly until I decided that a headache was better than the alternative. Ladybug stood not too far off giggling. I pulled myself up into a sitting position and saw that I was still fully dressed except for my shoes. Trying to smooth my wayward hair I slipped my boots on and laced them tightly. Snapping suspenders over my shoulders I straightened my red vest and threw on my black bowler hat. Bourbon nodded at me and went off to wake up Pistol who would undoubtedly be in the same pain as the both of us. I almost scared Flinch out of her mind when I ran into her going into the washroom. She leapt a foot in the air and then looked at me guiltily apologies running out of her mouth.  
  
"Ey calm down," I grumbled flashing her a smile. She just looked at me with her huge brown eyes but I thought I saw the ghost of an answering smile on her lips before she ducked her head and brushed past me. I staggered into the room to the nearest sink and began dousing my head with water. Bourbon apparently had started to wake up the girls before Kloppman came upstairs so they could do whatever it was in the washroom before the boys awoke. Hearing a snicker I looked up water dripping down my face to see a highly amused Spot looking at me from one of the opposite sinks.  
  
"What're you doing here?" I croaked wincing at the sound of my voice.  
  
"Easier to sleep here last night than go all the way back to Brooklyn."  
"Lucky us," I spat cupping my hand under the stream of water and drinking as much as I possibly could. Spot only smiled at my discomfort. It was then I noticed he was only half-dressed, his prized red suspenders hanging at his sides, a pair of ratty dark brown trousers on. Dropping my eyes I muttered underneath my breath and cheeks burning crimson I made a hasty getaway.  
  
"Like it ain't nothing you've probably seen before," I heard his voice follow me out of the room. I stiffened slightly before letting it go. I wasn't in the mood for any sort of verbal banter at all this morning. Passing a groggy, half-awake Pistol in the hallway I made my way down into the lobby where I came across Bourbon, Nell, Ladybug, Peppermint and Flinch respectively. Just outside the doorway I heard voices and poking my head around the doorjamb I saw the Brooklyn newsgirl from last night talking to another girl I hadn't met yet. They both stopped talking and eyed me.  
  
The new girl looked to be my age or a little bit younger, was of medium height and had black hair that fell just past her shoulders. Gray eyes blinked at me curiously as she put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. She wore a plain cotton dress with boots and yet I saw traces of thick black eye makeup around her eyes and she was wearing dark red lipstick. Bourbon pushed me out the door and I swatted at her, stealing a cigarette from behind her ear.  
  
"Meesh! How's it goin'?" Bourbon clapped the smaller girl on the shoulder eliciting a warm smile from the latter. The other girls trailed out of the lodging house as I leaned up against the brick building to light my cigarette. I saw the Brooklyn newsgirl eyeing my smoke enviously and I held it out to her.  
"Hey, thanks." She looked me up and down and took a drag before handing it back. Sticking out her hand she waited. I took it in my own and shook it solidly.  
"The name's Pokey. Spot told Flame and me last night that you call yourself Misery." I nodded and she gave me a friendly look. Looking at the other newcomer I saw her watching me a cautious light in her eyes.  
  
"How's Loon, Meesh?" I heard Bourbon asking after the latest of my brother's victims. Meesh shrugged and lowered her voice to ward off eavesdroppers but I still managed to hear.  
"He's okay Bourb. Got a black eye and some nasty bruises, but I think he'll be fine. What I'm mostly worried about is how they're handling Claps' death. I've never seen a bunch of boys more willing to get into fights they know they can't win. Even Spot himself has been moping around the past week. He tries to act like he's okay but anybody who spends enough time around him knows that he's not. He drinks every night and treats anybody who crosses his path that isn't a newsie like they were the ones who killed Claps. Did Spot drink last night?" I crossed my arms defiantly as all eyes were suddenly focused on me. Pistol appeared just then grinning sickly and threw her arm around my neck. Although we were both short, she was just a shade taller than me.  
  
"Christ Misery I haven't drank like that in a dog's age! Let's do it again sometime soon and this time we'll go to a pub I know where they sing some grand Irish tunes. I bet even Spot would go, he drank like a fish last night." I groaned inwardly as Meesh raised her eyebrow at me.  
  
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," she said.  
"Misery," I replied holding out a hand. It was a second before she took it, but she shook my hand after what seemed like an eternity. Bourbon patted my arm reassuringly.  
"Misery's a good egg, Meesh. Racetrack brought her home from Brooklyn like a little stray puppy." I glowered at Bourbon as she snickered. Understanding lit up Meesh's eyes suddenly.  
"Ah so you're the girl Knuckles found." I nodded my face turning red for the second time that morning. Meesh gave me a disapproving glance.  
"Not that you'd know, because you just joined the group and all, but Spot is under no circumstances allowed to drink. He drinks, all the other boys drink, and they get all stupid and crazy and do things they normally wouldn't." Bourbon put a restraining hand on Meesh's thin shoulder.  
  
"Ey there, Meesh. Spot was the one who started it last night. He bet our Misery here that she couldn't out drink him and by God she did. He was just showing off." This earned me another glance, this one contemplative. I knew all about Conlon's history with girls, he was like any other street kid. Most didn't care what you looked like if you were a female they only wanted one of two things. The first was for you to get in the kitchen and cook 'em a meal and the second was highly unmentionable. I was fairly certain that Spot was like my brother's and their hooligans.  
  
Girls to them were trophies if they were beautiful and if they weren't then they fell into the 'last resort' category. I highly doubted that anyone with the level of arrogance that Spot had shown he possessed could be any different. Besides most of the street boys hadn't been shown a lot of love or kindness in their young lives and in turn, had no idea how to give that away to someone else. Most ran like scared dogs with their tail's tucked in- between their legs at the first hint of a girl wanting something like that from them. That or they exploited it to the best of their abilities.  
  
The Manhattan newsies seemed to be an exception. In the day and night I had been staying there I had seen that they were rather tough, but underneath they all had hearts of pure gold. They lived and worked together as a family and so had learned how to care for each other and show it in ways that wouldn't be looked at by the other borough's as 'weak'. Someone snapping their finger's in front of my face jolted me out of my thoughts.  
  
"I swear to God you do that so often I'm surprised you haven't walked in front of a carriage and died." Racetrack stood in front of me smirking, his cigar in place, thumbs hooked through his suspenders. I looked around to see that the boys were starting to exit the lodging house and everyone was heading to the Distribution center.  
"Yeah well, I guess I have a lot to think about."  
"Oh really? Such as?" I rolled my eyes and just about stomped my foot in exasperation at the sound of Spot's voice. Why was this boy constantly up my ass? I had only just met him surely he had legions of other people to bother. Whirling to face him, I saw the other Brooklyn newsie Flame standing beside him. Both boys wore shit-eating grins and I knew they got some sort of pleasure out of seeing me frustrated.  
  
"Listen Conlon," I took a deep breath planning to launch into a tirade when Race slung his arm around my shoulder on one side and Jack slung his arm around the other. I blinked up at Jack startled. I hadn't seen him join us. Together the two boys herded me away from Spot and Flame. Throwing a glare over my shoulder I saw Spot watching us with his trademark smirk.  
"Y'know Misery, there's nothing I like to see better than a girl give Spot a good dressin' down but now just ain't the time. All them Brooklyn boys are itchin' for bloody murder and the last thing we want is a borough war on our hands because Spot feels like it. He's burnin' up for an excuse, just one excuse to have a fight with anybody. So until things get sorted out, it would be best if we step lightly." I felt guilt roil around inside my stomach as Jack spelled things out for me. I wished right then there that I could just up and tell them everything. When I look back on it, I suppose I could have. But at the time I was only thinking of getting my brother's thrown in jail. To do that I had to find someone who knew the proper contacts so as not to alert the cops my brother's had on their pay roll.  
  
"Ey you got me?" I nodded at Jack and he smiled. Stealing the bowler hat off of my head he ran off laughing at my indignant squawk. Racetrack was laughing as well and turned on him holding my fists up.  
"You better help me get that back or else," he held his hands up and scrunched his shoulders pretending to look scared.  
  
"Or else what, Mis? Oooh lookit me I'm shakin' with fear." Feigning a punch at his face I took off after Jack yelling my head off. By the time I reached the Distribution center I found Jack sitting on the ramp perusing a paper, my hat cocked on his head. Giving me a wicked grin as I strode over and snatched it back he tossed a pile of papers at me.  
"You owe me kid, but I spotted you fifty papes. Now, it's time to learn the tricks of the trade." I slumped down next to him as he explained how it was better to embellish headlines to get customers. There were a few other tricks such as pretending not to have change if someone gave you a nickel or a dime, or just flat out running away which he said was risky if anything. By this time the rest of the kids had come in and bought their papers. Spot, Flame, and Pokey were going to make the trek back to Brooklyn. Spot and Jack spit-shook and Spot studied me intently for a second before smacking my face lightly with the palm of his hand.  
"Later doll," was all he said as the trio trooped out of the yard and off towards Brooklyn. I flipped Spot off behind his back and earned a cuff from Jack who warned me to behave.  
  
"How can you stand him?" Jack got a serious look on his face and he lit a cigarette thoughtfully.  
"I've known Spot for a few years now. Manhattan and Brooklyn used to fight all the time before me'n'him became leaders. I knew him before he was the leader over there and we always got along. Besides in case you haven't noticed you being from Brooklyn yourself and all, livin' here ain't exactly the same as livin' there. Spot needs to be a jerk to keep his boys in line and he gets so used to bein' like that that he tends to be a jerk to people who don't deserve it." Blowing out a thick stream of smoke he handed me his cigarette which I puffed away at for a moment before giving it back.  
"I think I'm gonna have you sell with Racetrack today. I know you don't mind 'em and I'm positive he won't mind you." I looked at Jack curiously as Racetrack approached us his papers slung over his shoulder.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" He just smiled at me and leapt off of the ramp. Tilting his head he looked at me again.  
"Come to think of it the way Brooklyn's actin' I don't think he minds you either." Rolling my eyes I threw up my hands and smacked my forehead. Boys can't live with 'em can't live without 'em.  
Racetrack and I sold our papers fairly easily which Race said was a sign of luck. Pocketing my share of the change I patted my stomach as it growled fiercely.  
  
"Easy there girl, I'll feed you yet," I said to it soothingly. Racetrack snorted out a laugh and pointed to a fruit stand. We walked over and purchased apples which tasted absolutely delicious after not having eaten anything in a few days. Crisp and sweet, I licked at the juice as it trailed down my arm. Companionably we sat side-by-side on the edge of a stone wall that ran through a small park.  
  
"Why were you runnin' from your brothers?" I almost choked on a piece of apple and Race had to whack me on the back to dislodge it. Looking over at him as he patted my back concern lighting up his brown eyes I felt an overwhelming urge to just tell him everything. He wouldn't hate me because of what my brother's had done, would he? But then a little voice hissed at me that he wouldn't be too happy with me lying to him and everyone else. I think he saw the indecision in my eyes because he looked away.  
  
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want," he said quietly. I was amazed at the slight hurt tone he was using. Putting a hand on his sleeve I cleared my throat.  
"My brother's are huge creeps, Race. My Da ran away when I was a kid and left me with them. They didn't want to take care of me, and they made me look after them and the other...their friends who stayed with us. Their friends were never nice to me. You know, roaming hands hard fists."  
  
I shrugged and threw the core of my apple behind me. Racetrack was watching me with eyes full of compassion. That was the thing with the Manhattan boys as well. They weren't out to out-tough anyone. They accepted that most of the kids they encountered had been abused in one way or another and quite often some of them had similar experiences they could relate to.  
"Well you don't hafta worry about them anymore." Smirking, I wiped my hands on my pants and stood up.  
"Yeah now I just have to watch my back around Conlon." Racetrack cocked his head.  
"Why would you have to do that? He may be actin' all hostile towards ya for the time bein' but it won't last. He does that to all the new newsies to intimidate them into respectin' him." I cursed myself for my slip and smiled down at Race holding out a hand to him.  
"Forget Conlon, he's boring. Let's go somewhere so I can steal some tobacco and rolling papers." Shaking his head at me, Race let me pull him into a standing position. I yanked on his hand too hard and for a second he teetered close to my face before he put a hand on my shoulder to steady himself. We froze, standing like that until I broke away cracking a joke about how clumsy he was. He darted a glance at me then laughed and put his cigar into his mouth and we walked off to find a grocer's store. As we walked I tried to ignore how nice it felt to be walking with a boy who was actually decent to me and as quickly as those thoughts were pushed away I had to force myself to get a certain pair of cool blue eyes out of my head as well.  
  
Ruefully shaking my head as I entered the grocer's with my thieving plan fully intact the only thing running through my mind at that point was a grim reality. 'Shit Misery, you're screwed'.  
  
Just Duck - I haven't decided who Misery will be with, but whoever she isn't with won't be unhappy I promise. Spot and Race are my favorite's I couldn't hurt 'em. I know, whiskey's harsh but I don't mind the taste of it so I figured meh, neither will they. Vodka is definitely evil. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Cabby1 - Hehehe..isn't it obvious whether they both like her or not? : P Romance complications rock but having to choose sucks hardcore.  
  
Netangel182 - Geez I managed to impress someone? *struts* Thank you! I'm glad you like it, I'm enjoying writing it.  
  
We Built This City On Rock and Roll - Psh no harm in letting the imagination roam, we're all *slightly* obsessed or why would we be writing fanfic about these boys?! Like I mentioned up there somewhere to someone else, I don't mind the taste of whiskey so I figured that two Brooklyn toughs like Misery and Spot wouldn't either. Hehehe, a shy Race is a cute Race. I could totally see him acting like a wise ass with his friends and being all quite and tongue-tied around females which is probably why I wrote him that way.  
  
Maybe I Don't Wanna Go - Keep reading you just might get your wish ; )  
  
Pokey7 - Yes she was and she's in this chapter as well! I have noticed that there are a lot of proud people with Irish heritage roaming around this site. I liked that song too, it was one of the few that seemed to fit the era. Of course Misery beat Spot, she's got a liver of iron. Thanks for reading! 


	7. Chapter Seven

I dashed out of the grocer's with my pocket's bulging, the owner chasing me with a broom. Hollering at Race to follow me, we charged down an alleyway and came out near the Square. Chuckling in a satisfied manner I immediately began rolling a cigarette and tossed Race a handful of cigars. His eyes flew open and he got an ecstatic grin on his face.  
  
"Oh my God I love you!" He grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me square on the lips. I froze, much like with Spot, but unlike Spot's kiss Racetrack's was brief and hesitant and he pulled away quickly. Face red, he hastily began examining the cigars. I went back to rolling a cigarette and stuck it into my mouth slapping Race's shoulder and mimicking striking a match. He bit the end off of his cigar and lit my smoke for me.  
  
"And we didn't even get caught," he mused wonderingly puffing away with a look of content on his face. Then he stopped and looked at me.  
"How did you learn how to do that?" I glanced at him uncomprehendingly.  
"Do what?"  
"Not get caught. Most kids get caught their first time. That obviously wasn't your first. What exactly was it you did in Brooklyn?"  
"Listen, Racetrack..."  
"I'm listening."  
  
I took a deep breath and squinted up at him. He wasn't much taller than I was but the sun was in my eyes. I studied him for a few moments silently. His eyes weren't as understanding as they had been earlier. Now they were slightly suspicious. I pretended to feign anger.  
  
"What's your problem anyway? It's not like you or Jack or anyone else has never stolen anything. So I used to steal stuff in Brooklyn, big whoop." Turning away from him roughly I started to stride away. He caught me by the arm and pulled me back.  
"Alright Mis," he said in a patient tone. I looked up at him again.  
  
"I believe you," he said simply slinging an arm around my shoulders. I felt shame flood my insides and I looked away from him. I had to go and get that damn diary and end this. The longer I lied to these kids the more I would end up hurting them and hating myself. Sighing I remembered where I had left the stupid thing. I had been hiding it at Spot's dock when Knuckles found me. Cursing my stupidity I almost instantly felt elation as Bourbon ran up and asked us if we were going to Brooklyn to see Meesh perform.  
"Perform?" I said dumbly.  
  
"Meesh works at a theater in Brooklyn. The only reason you see her around us is because she's our friend and she takes care of the guys when they get roughed up. She's got a gentle touch."  
"She stays at the lodging house. O'Malley lets her stay because he doesn't want to play nursemaid to those goons. They get hurt all the time. Understandably." I laughed at Racetrack. Bourbon slapped Racetrack on the back.  
  
"Poor Race, he has no luck. He liked Meesh when she first started coming around but Spot got to her first." Racetrack looked like someone had goosed him as he gave Bourbon an incredulous look.  
  
"Bourbon, what the hell?" Bourbon gave him a warning look at his tone.  
"Oh Race, it's common knowledge. Besides I think she still likes you." Racetrack snorted bitterly.  
"Yeah after Spot kicked her to the curb she likes me again. Wonderful." Bourbon slapped him upside the head.  
  
"No you dolt I think she always liked you better. You know how persuasive Spot can be." Racetrack made a frustrated noise and I giggled. He pushed me playfully and shook a finger under my nose.  
  
"Don't go blabbing that bit of info to anyone y'hear?" I nodded solemnly then took a deep breath as if to shout. His eyes widened and he clapped a dirty hand over my mouth. Bourbon shook her head at us. Jangling coins around in my pocket as we walked I saw that we were approaching a huge statue of a man where newsies were lounging. One little African American boy was lying across the man's lap rolling marbles around in his hand.  
"Hey Boots what's shakin'?" The boy sat up and flashed us a smile.  
"Not much, not much. Won some marbles off Snipe and he's pretty mad." Snipeshooter, the boy in question was moodily sitting at the base of the statue. Snorting he glowered up at Boots.  
  
"I'll win 'em back, you wait." Boots rolled his eyes at us and leapt off of the statue. He and Racetrack got into an animated discussion about horses and I wandered off to where Jack was sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette. He flicked at the brim of my bowler hat as I sat down and I swatted at him.  
  
"You guys finished?" I nodded and he exhaled a cloud of smoke. As I started to roll another cigarette he looked at me curiously.  
"Stole 'em", was all I said in explanation. He raised his eyebrows but only nodded at me. The rest of the afternoon was spent selling the afternoon edition of the paper and smoking a lot of cigarettes. By the time we made our way back to the lodging house the sun had set.  
  
Rags and Ladybug met Racetrack and I at the door bouncing on their heels. Racetrack swung a squealing Rags over his shoulder and Ladybug shyly held on to my sleeve. I guess being her bunkmate helped her get over her shyness with me. Rags was jabbering excitedly about wanting to go see Meesh, but Racetrack had to tell him that the little ones weren't allowed to go.  
"Ya gotta stay here and look after Kloppman. He gets scared when there's nobody here." Rags pouted and gave Race a doubtful look. Racetrack nodded at him his face solemn.  
  
"Okay, we'll protect him." I hid a smile at the pair as they darted off to bother Kloppman. Pounding up the stairs we parted to change our clothes. I stopped when I realized that the clothes I had on were all I had. I saw Bourbon pause in buttoning a clean if rather worn blue blouse.  
"I bet Pistol will share something if you want to change." Pistol looked up from where she was shimmying into a dress and nodded. I made a face at the fact that they were changing into skirts and dresses. Looking down at my own clothes I shrugged and took a pale green dress that Pistol held out to me along with a thin shift. 'When in Rome' I thought to myself. Bourbon clapped her hands as I finished.  
  
"Oh Misery you clean up so nice!" It had been a long time since I wore dresses or skirts. Easier to keep my brother's goons minds in check if I dressed as they did. Pistol threw my motley assortment of hand-me-downs onto my bunk and set about combing out my hair. It had plenty of snarls from all the running I had done today. Gritting my teeth and cursing I was thankful when she finished. Even Nell agreed that I was quite a sight as Pistol threaded a ribbon around part of my hair letting the rest hang down. Slightly cross with all the attention I flounced out of the room and down the stairway to smoke a cigarette. Mush and Kid Blink were outside talking to Jack and their jaws dropped as I joined them.  
  
"Misery you look..like a girl!" Blink swatted at Mush for his statement and winked at me with his good eye. Jack gave me a look-over and whistled lowly. Shaking his head he gave me a match when I irritably asked for one.  
"Tonight is definitely going to be interesting," was all he said. Rolling my eyes I turned to see Racetrack standing in the doorway his eyes large and looking me up and down. I pointed at him with my cigarette.  
  
"Not you too Race, don't start." Quickly he changed the look on his face to a smirk and raised his hands in defeat. Leaning close to me he whispered in my ear before sticking his ever-present cigar back into his mouth; "You look really nice." I wasn't used to this sort of attention and I turned pink with embarrassment. The rest of the kids who were going to see Meesh perform piled out of the lodging house and we started off after stern warnings from Kloppman that if we got into any trouble or were too late that he was locking the door and ignoring us. Jack snorted at him and waved a hand, and we were off.  
  
The walk was a little tedious after being on our feet all day selling papers, but it was nice. I was in a highly nervous state as we crossed the bridge and entered Brooklyn. I knew that Spot's territory was further south from Green Point so I was fairly certain we wouldn't run in to my brother's. But if they had gotten wind that most of the Brooklyn newsies would be at this show then they might come if they were bored. Jack informed me that we would be going to a party at the Brooklyn lodging house after the show. Apparently their manager, O'Malley was away and they were taking the opportunity to throw a party.  
  
We reached a large brick building that didn't have any sort of signs out front. Jack and the others went down a side alley and knocked on a door. A huge man appeared, looking irritated. He had a nose that had been broken more than once and his neck was as thick as his arms which looked like hams. When he saw Jack smiling cockily at him he managed a brief grimace which I suppose was meant to be a smile.  
  
"Well, well, well if isn't the Cowboy. Spot's waiting for you guys." Racetrack took my arm like he had done the night at Medda's and I smiled up at him. He really was such a sweet guy.  
"There's something I want to talk to you about later," he said into my ear as we walked down a hallway and entered a large room with a stage and many small tables. It looked a lot like Medda's.  
  
"What is it?" I was afraid that he was going to bring up my brother's or my past but he just smiled mysteriously and winked at me. I felt a new sort of fear creep into my stomach. What did he want? Was it something about us? Before I could think about it anymore we were standing near a bunch of tables that had been pushed together and a crew of battered, dangerous looking boys. I saw Spot sitting with Pokey and Flame on either side of him. Knuckles leered at me and I noticed a few other boys casually raking us girls with their eyes smirks on their faces. There were a few girls at the Brooklyn tables, all wore boy's clothes even to this event and they flicked their eyes over us females in indifference. I saw one wink suggestively at Mush who winked back.  
  
Spot's eyes lingered on me then widened in recognition. He almost spat out the sip of ale he had taken and he looked at me in shock.  
"Misery?!" Uncomfortably I nodded and raised my eyebrows at him.  
  
"You look great dollface," he said as we all seated ourselves. I was sitting across from him and next to Racetrack and Bourbon. Bourbon was exchanging greetings with a tall, broad-shouldered boy as muscular as Knuckles that I heard her call 'Riddle'. I glowered at Spot as he looked me over a slightly pleased look on his narrow face.  
  
"Now that's a look you should try to keep," Spot said. I rolled my eyes at him and paid attention to Racetrack who was trying to tell me who everyone was.  
"Ah don't bother Race, she won't remember everyone." Pokey gave me a small smile and turned her head to address Jack who was trying to tell her a joke. I grinned knowingly. She tried hard not to show her feelings for Jack but it was rather obvious. I was certain he had some idea. Then the curtain swung open and music started up and we all watched the show. The dancing was great, Meesh shown in her burlesque costume as the girls did an intricate dance number.  
  
I tapped my feet to the music and started drinking. Part-way through the evening I looked over to see Spot studying me intently. He had a gleam in his eyes that made me fidget and almost drop my drink. He winked slowly at me and mouthed a word I made out to be as 'Later'. I hastily swung my gaze back to the stage and tried to ignore my racing heart. This wasn't happening. I had no desire to hurt Racetrack but I felt Spot pulling me in.  
  
At the end of the show the newsies all stood and Meesh and the rest of the girls received thunderous applause. We all rose, me draining my pint glass and putting down. Meesh and a few other girls met up with us outside in the alley and we all headed to Brooklyn's lodging house.  
  
The Brooklyn newsies resided in a converted warehouse that was down by the docks. I almost did a jig at how convenient this night was getting. Walking in to the ramshackle building I tried hard not to show my distaste. Their O'Malley was no Kloppman. The main room had a desk that was propped up with of all things a Bible so that it didn't teeter and there was a ledger with a pot of ink and a pen sitting next to it. There were a few barrel seats and small table with a half-played game of checkers on it. The next room had a larger table with more seats, a wood stove in the corner and a huge keg of what Pokey informed me was alcohol. Riddle was busy attempting to tap into the thick wood. There were a set of stairs that led up to a large bunkroom and Spot's private room. I marveled at the fact that Jack didn't have his own room yet Spot did. But then again Jack was no Spot Conlon.  
  
Racetrack pulled out his harmonica and a few other boys produced homemade instruments and we soon had music. Some of the kids paired off and began dancing. I saw Bourbon being whirled around by Riddle and Pistol doing a jig with Kid Blink. Pokey was in a corner talking to Jack who was nodding at whatever she was saying with an earnest look on his face. I leaned up against the wall with a drink in my hand thinking of a way to get out of the house without being noticed.  
  
"Having fun yet?" The voice in my ear was warm as was the body that was pressed against my side. I could smell beer on Spot's breath as he joined me. I gave a small shrug of my shoulder and casually kept my eyes on the crowd.  
"It's alright I suppose," I pretended to yawn and saw Spot bristle before taking a deep breath.  
  
"I could make things more interesting for ya," he said his voice husky. I made the mistake of turning my head to look into his eyes and I was caught. His face was close to mine and his beautiful blue eyes were gazing at me raptly. Taking a finger he trailed down one side of my cheek down my neck and kept it resting in the hollow right below my throat. I shivered and he smiled at my response. Handing him my drink, I put my lips close to his ear.  
  
"I don't think so Conlon," was all I said before I swept away. I couldn't help but look back and saw him draining the rest of my drink and watching me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. This could be a rather large problem. Hurrying out of the room I muttered something to Jack and Pokey who were in the corner near the door that I was going outside for fresh air. They barely heard me but I thought I saw Jack nod absently his attention fixated on Pokey. The air outside smelled strongly of the river but it was cool and dark.  
  
Swearing I gathered my skirt up in one hand and ran down a small incline to where I saw the pile of crates and barrels that was the entrance to Spot's dock. I had placed my diary underneath one of the boards of the dock on a ledge that was created by one of the poles that supported the dock's weight. Hanging over the side behind a barrel, I felt around hastily and finally breathed a sigh of relief as my fingers closed over the familiar small leather-bound book. I stuck it into my boot top and almost shouted as I heard someone behind me ask me what I thought I was doing.  
  
Spot stood behind me his arms crossed, a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. My hazel eyes met his blue ones and he raised an eyebrow expectantly.  
"Throwing up already? The night's just started." I shrugged and forced out a jittery laugh. In two large strides Spot had me in his arms and I did in fact almost throw up right then and there. I have no tact; my stomach always chooses to disobey me at the most inopportune times.  
  
"What're you doing," I whispered as he tightened his grip and looked down at me.  
"What does it look like," he laughed before he bent down and kissed me. I tried to push him away but the truth was I really honestly didn't want to. My arms went around his neck as if they had minds of their own and I returned his kiss with ardor. As we finally broke apart for air, I looked over Spot's shoulder and my heart tore in two. Racetrack stood near the entrance of the dock his face clouded with pain. I shoved Spot away and called his name, but he had already disappeared.  
  
"SHIT! Look at what you made me do," I screamed at Spot who was watching me with no expression on his face. Suddenly he gripped my arm and pulled me to him again.  
"Don't tell me you didn't want that, or haven't wanted that since yesterday when I kissed you in the alley. It takes two to tango sweetheart. Race is a tough kid he'll get over it."  
"Yeah like he got over Meesh? Are you just doing this because he liked me?"  
  
Spot snorted mirthlessly and wiped a hand over his face. He suddenly looked old; in the moonlight I could see lines on his face. Taking off his cap he raked his hands through his hair and then threw them up into the air.  
"What do you want from me, I like you goddamnit!" Pointing a finger in my direction he looked at me unblinkingly.  
  
"Don't deny that you don't like me back, I know it's true." Despite his arrogance I knew that what he said was in fact the truth. I knew it and my heart sank down into my toes as I realized that sooner or later Spot would find out who I was and then I wouldn't have him anymore. No Racetrack, No Spot, none of my new friends.  
  
"Spot, you shouldn't like me. It's not going to work, you barely know me." Spot put his forehead against mine and we stood like that silently for a few moments.  
"I've been trying to tell myself that for the past two days," he breathed. Desperately I hoped that Racetrack hadn't been that in to me. I had only just met him as well. I swore again softly as Spot and I made our way back up to the lodging house. Things had just gone from bad to worse.  
  
Maybe I Don't Wanna Go - Hehe..yes Spot is one of my all-time favorites as well. Racetrack was already supposed to know but I hadn't added it in to the beginning so I went back and added that in. I hope it makes more sense now.  
  
Chronicles Bailey - Thanks for your review! Yeah I could use some help with the accents, I'm sure but I don't put them in on purpose. It's easier for me to type and hopefully people can over-look that and just assume that they have the accents since they're in New York. *Scratches head* What's an OC? I'm fanfic illiterate.  
  
JustDuck - So close and now it's happened! Meesh is Spot's ex, she's not a bad person just over-protective. Irish pubs rock the atmosphere is awesome.  
  
Chelsea - Good lord I'm glad she's not a mary-sue. I'm always unsure as to what constitutes a character as being like that, but I try to make my original character's as close to real people as I possibly can. Race is ADORABLE!! Don't hate me because I hurt him in this chapter..*sniff* He'll end up happy I swear. Don't worry I don't think you're obsessive ; )  
  
Cabby1 - I hope you don't mind I made Meesh Spot's ex. *hides* Thanks for your reviews and once again thanks for the use of your character!!  
  
My Dog Ate My Penname - ahaha..awesome name. Thank you so much!! I like Misery too, I actually based a lot of her characteristics from my own personality. Hmm..Does this mean I rock too? Why yes it must. ; )  
  
Pokey7 - Yes Race and Misery had a 'cute' moment and I agree that she would be good with Spot too. I'm glad it's not creepy that I update so fast. ; ) I have a life I swear *looks around* 


	8. Chapter Eight

With a heavy heart I started trudging back towards the Brooklyn Lodging House. Trying to light a cigarette, I sighed in frustration as my hands were shaking so badly. I barely noticed when two dirty, strong hands took the match and smoke from mine and lit it for me. Glancing up I looked at Spot blankly when he stuck the cigarette between my lips after taking a drag. Silently we regarded each other until he reached out a hand and cupped my cheek gently in his palm.  
  
"We'll straighten all this out, don't worry." I closed my eyes at the softness in his voice and struggled to not let my own voice waver. Blinking back hot, stinging tears I bit my lip.  
  
"I like Racetrack, Spot. I don't want him to hate me." Spot looked taken aback at my eyes filled with moisture and turned his head away before pulling me against his chest. I felt him rubbing my back and stiffening slightly I finally stopped resisting and burrowed my face into the front of his scratchy, rough shirt.  
  
"Hey, have you guys seen Racetr..Oh, sorry." Guiltily although we weren't doing anything wrong, Spot and I sprang apart. Meesh stood in front of us, her face a mask as she looked the two of us over. I'm certain if it had been daylight my cheeks would be the color of the apples Racetrack and I had eaten earlier. Smirking and nodding slightly as if confirming something, Meesh shook her head and after apologizing again, took off in the direction Racetrack had disappeared.  
  
Throwing Spot a look, I took off again, striding ahead of him. He caught up to me and put my smaller hand into his own, tucking it into his pocket. I ducked my head in embarrassment, but didn't argue. When we reached the warehouse, light, music, and loud voices spilling out of the windows and open door, we separated. I didn't want anyone to see us and make things difficult. Everyone had known that Race had a thing for me. It was highly obvious apparently to everyone but me. Remembering Jack's earlier comments I began to worry about what would happen when the boys found out that I had chosen Spot. Would they and the girls shun me for accepting Spot and shunning Racetrack's affections? I wondered if I would still be welcome in Manhattan. Spot, being the ever-wise, all-knowing creature that I soon found out he was drew me to one side.  
  
"If anyone starts giving you a hard time, about..You know us, well you can always stay here." I looked up at him with wide, unblinking eyes.  
"So there is an 'us'?" In the dim light I saw him raise his chin and look down his nose at me for a second or two before he chucked a knuckle under my chin.  
  
"If you agree there is," he said simply before kissing me once more briefly and entering the lodging house hollering for a pint. I bent over to make sure the diary was still safely tucked into my boot before following him in. Most of the newsies were slumped into chairs or lying in corners sleeping. Some were sitting at a table singing drunkenly and trying to play cards. I saw Spot drain a pint down in a dirty glass before he beckoned me to follow him up a flight of stairs. The stairs were narrow and creaked yet Spot must have known them well for he seemed to not step on any of the noisy stairs. We entered a small bedroom that he whispered was his as he lit a candle. I glanced over into the corner and muffled a gasp.  
  
A small boy lay on a makeshift cot, his eyes swollen shut, breathing raggedly. His blonde hair was matted with sweat and he mumbled brokenly in his sleep. His face was skinny and shadowed with bruises. Spot brought the candle closer to the boy's face and looked him over before nodding and tucking the blanket underneath his chin. The boy couldn't have been more than eight or nine.  
  
"That's Loon." Spot's voice was close to me and I broke out of my stupor and glanced up at him. There was a fierce glint in his eyes as he set the candle down onto a crate that served as a nightstand. A mattress lay on the floor in the other corner, a misshapen pillow and moth-eaten quilt flung carelessly across it. A few hooks decorated the walls along with holes and spots where plaster was missing and wood shown through looking like ribs. A few shirts and a cap or two were hung on the hooks. I saw Spot start to empty his trouser pants.  
  
A handful of coins went into a jar, and a slingshot and a pair of brass knuckles went onto the crate. I noticed a switchblade sitting on the crate, and picked it up. Turning it over I saw the initials 'M.S.F.' carved into the handle. I jumped as Spot roughly took it away from me.  
"Don't touch that," he hissed carefully setting it down. Taken aback, I tried to make my voice not sound hurt.  
"Why the hell not?"  
  
"That was Cards' blade. Nobody touches it." Cards, the newsie who had been murdered by my brothers. I didn't blame Spot then as I saw him tenderly pat the thing before starting to unbutton his shirt.  
"Were you close?" Spot snorted and tossed me a thin smile as he drew the shirt over his head. He definitely wasn't as thin and scrawny as he had been five years ago. His shoulders had widened and he had an actual defined chest. Narrow muscles strained in his shoulders as he pulled an undershirt on.  
  
"He was a kid, but he was a Brooklyn newsie. He was family. All the boys here are a family. Nobody came to his funeral but us kids when he was buried. And I made sure he was buried in a proper cemetery, not the poor people's one. His grave is marked." Spot's fists tightened before loosening again as he lit a cigarette. A cough rattled through his chest before he spat out the window.  
  
"Spot?" the thin voice pierced the semi-darkness and Spot moved towards the cot.  
"I'm here, kid." I saw a corner of Loon's mouth turn up crookedly before he settled back down into a restless sleep.  
"I should go," I said feeling a wave of guilt hit me. Spot turned his face towards me, but I couldn't read his expression. Shrugging, he rose and took me into his arms.  
"Could always stay here with me," Flushing I protested and managed to disentangle myself. Bad news if I spent the night here, I was fairly certain of it.  
  
"Fine, Misery. Run away from me now, I'll let you go. But there may come a time when I won't let you get away so easily." I threw him a look that I hoped was mysterious.  
"Catch me if you can, when I come your way*." He rose and started towards me, but I held up a hand in warning and shook my head.  
  
I shuddered and backed out of the room, quickly going back the way we had come. Downstairs most of the Manhattan newsies were gathering and preparing for the walk back. I didn't see Meesh and Racetrack, and I was glad. Bourbon was busy kissing Riddle who had a firm hold on her waist. I saw Pistol standing behind them kissing the air in an exaggerated, mocking way. Blink, Mush, and Jack were all roaring with laughter. Bourbon finished with Riddle and swatted at Pistol who hid behind Blink.  
  
"Don't think he'll save you, Pistol!" Bourbon shouted at the girl who only stuck her head around Blink and slowly stuck her tongue out crossing her eyes. Riddle neatly snagged Bourbon and pulled her back against him as she shrieked and lunged for the smaller girl. Pokey paused in her job of herding drunken Brooklyn newsies up the stairs to go to bed to give Jack a quick peck on the cheek. Jack winked at her and whispered something in her ear that made her cheeks turn pink. Casting one last look over her shoulder at him she helped a Brooklyn boy up the stairs.  
  
"Where's Race?" I winced at Bumlets's question and hoped nobody had noticed.  
"Misery do you have any idea?" I shook my head mutely.  
"I think he and Meesh headed back to the lodging house early," was all I could manage to say. Jack gave me an odd look before shrugging and leading the way out the door. Silently I trudged along next to Pistol and Blink.  
  
The streets were dark and not very well lit. I couldn't get rid of the worry about what I was going to do with Racetrack out of my head. As we crossed the Bridge, I stopped long enough to look out over the water and up at the stars. Pistol and Blink stopped with me, reluctant to let one of our group fall behind.  
  
"It's so pretty here sometimes," I murmured. Pistol nodded in agreement while Blink lit a cigarette and shook his head at our feminine sentiments. I took a drag off of Blink's smoke when he offered it as did Pistol before he jerked his head towards Manhattan, a lock of his blonde hair falling into his one good eye.  
"We should get headin' girls."  
  
"I'm surprised Race isn't here and that he left early. He's been glued to your side the past few days." I stumbled and angrily swished my skirts wishing desperately for my ratty pair of trousers.  
"Yeah well, you know boys. Their minds change rather quickly I'm afraid." Pistol snorted and looked at me sideways.  
"As do girls minds I take it."  
"So you saw me with Spot," I said flatly. She nodded and slung an arm around my shoulder.  
"Look kid," I snorted briefly but listened.  
  
"I like ya; I think you're a good person. I know that even though I haven't known you for that long, that you wouldn't do anything to hurt any of us. Especially those you're close to and I think you and Race are fairly close. I also think that Spot snared you the moment you two had your first run-in. He usually snares girls pretty quick, ain't that right Blink?" Blink puffed on his cigarette and nodded.  
  
"I just hope that Spot's got it bad for ya and he ain't going to make you one of his one week broads." I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Pistol who was studying me with an intent, sage look in her young eyes.  
  
"Trust me Pistol; I won't let myself be made into one of those. Once I get that hint, I'm gone." Pistol cast me a look as if to say that she agreed with me. I knew that I wasn't that stupid and I hoped that the others didn't think me as such. We strode on in the darkness the rest of the newsies ahead of us proclaimed by clouds of cigarette smoke and snatches of conversation.  
  
When we reached the lodging house we found the door to be unlocked by a highly lenient Kloppman. Jack waved the lot of us upstairs and we stumbled up the stairway and in to our respective bunkrooms. The extra bunk that was normally empty was occupied by a snoring Meesh. I let out a brief sigh of relief that Racetrack was okay. Stripping myself of my clothes and hauling on my regular threads I made my way out into the hallway and through the boy's bunkroom. A few of the boys were still changing and they either protested my lack of decency or smirked at me as I made my way to the fire escape.  
  
Striking a match I lit a smoke and inhaled deeply. Things were going way too fast for my liking. It was as if by meeting this group of newsboys and girls that my life was changing at the speed of lightning. I wasn't altogether sure how to take the whole thing. I knew that I cared about Racetrack, Spot, Pistol, Bourbon, and the whole lot. I also knew that were I to let slip my connections that it wouldn't matter if I was the President's daughter the whole crew would denounce me with such alacrity that my head would spin.  
  
Exhaling a rather large cloud of cigarette smoke I mused thoughtfully about things. Tapping my fingers on the metal bar of the fire escape in front of me I hummed thoughtlessly. It wasn't until Bourbon was outside with me that I even realized her presence.  
  
"'Ey, Misery how're you holding up?" Through the fumes of alcohol that clouded my brain I nodded at her. She nodded back and lit up her own cancer stick. Together we smoked companionably before she spoke.  
"Spot has taken a real likin' to yah," was all she said. I almost choked on a cloud of nicotine as I eyed her reproachfully.  
"So what, does that make me a horrible person because Racetrack wanted me first?" Bourbon eyed me without emotion.  
  
"Don't get sassy with me kid; I don't care who likes ya and who doesn't. Racetrack would treat you better, that's all." I sighed deeply and neither of us said anything for a few moments. Bourbon flicked her cigarette over the railing and muttered something about getting up early. I finished my cigarette and flicked it away from me, watching it fall glowing to the sidewalk where it shattered into a pile of bright embers. Tomorrow was the day I set about trying to make things right.  
  
A/N - That little sentence with the asterisk is from a song by The Adicts which I love desperately.  
  
"I Am Yours"  
  
Catch me if you can  
  
When I come your way  
  
Catch me if you can  
  
I'm falling like the rain  
  
Everyday I see you  
  
But you're so far away  
  
Every way I love you  
  
Don't you know I love you so  
  
I would never ever let you go  
  
I am yours  
  
Whenever you want me  
  
I am yours whenever you need me  
  
All I do is dream of you  
  
All through the night  
  
Will I ever hold you  
  
Don't you know I love you so  
  
I would never ever let you go  
  
I might do some fiction based on a couple sappy punk songs but I'm undecided. Ok so that's it for that chapter. -A/N  
  
My Dog Ate My Penname - Yes I know how dogs can be. Mine like to eat a lot and poop everywhere. I hope you update soon!! Don't worry Race won't be sad for long.  
  
Netangel182 - Thank you so much! I honestly didn't know if I would be able to pull something like this off but my indecision with where the characters are going only seems to help add to it. Thank you!  
  
Pokey7 - I knew you'd like the whole Jack flirting thing. ;D Yeah I know how Misery feels too and boy does it suck. Can't help but feel bad for making one person hurt when you choose the other. Ah well such is love.  
  
Chelsea - AHAHA..Yeah Spot is a hot asshole, damn him. I'm not sure if he likes Misery because Race does or not. Race and Spot are friends unfortunately. Bro's before Ho's. Maybe she won't end up with either of 'em..There will definitely be some retribution for who Misery has history with.  
  
Cabby1 - Hehe you just might have your wish. Unfortunately I'm wicked and I won't say anything else just yet.  
  
Spots_girl_Sparks - Thanks for the review! I love it when new readers review.*dances* Anyway.I hope you keep reading.  
  
Maybe I Don't Wanna Go - Hahaha, I know how you feel bout Spot I feel the same way. I'm trying to update as much as possible but I've been sick and not wanting to do anything except sleep. But here's an update for yah!  
  
Chronicles Bailey - Ah thanks for clearing that up. I'll see what I can do to authenticate their way of speaking.  
  
JustDuck - I'm just as torn as you are and that's horrible because I'm writing this damn story. Hehe blushing is good, that's quite a compliment. Sorry about the delay with this update but like I mentioned up there somewhere I've been sick. Thank you!! 


	9. Chapter Nine

I was jostled awake the next morning and hauled unceremoniously out of bed by Bourbon and Pistol. Swearing and throwing a few punches I sprawled on my back on the hard wooden floor and glared up at them.  
  
"What's the big idea?" Bourbon gestured to the window where sunlight was filtering through.  
"It's late that's the big idea. You could sleep through a parade or some shit. Get the hell up." Pistol slapped my butt as I stormed by and I yelped and shook a fist at her. She laughed and gathering up her red hair thrust it up into her cap as she disappeared downstairs.  
  
I combed my fingers through my hair and twisted it up underneath my bowler hat, a few strands hanging down the sides of my face. Slapping my cheeks a few times I took a smoke that Bourbon stuck in front of my eyes. Pounding my shoulder she jostled me in a friendly way which resulted in a shoving match on the stairs and me laughing and leaping the last few stairs into the lobby. Unfortunately I landed on someone who was standing at the bottom of the staircase unaware. I grimaced as I stood up and looked down to see Racetrack lying on the floor.  
  
I stuck my hand out to help him up, but he pushed himself up and stood, brushing off the seat of his pants. Not even looking twice in my direction he about faced and walked outside. I felt my face turn bright red in embarrassment as many pairs of eyes looked at me curiously. Angrily holding on to my bowler hat I ran out the door.  
Spying Racetrack walking swiftly up the street towards the Distribution Center I hauled ass after him. Grabbing on to his sleeve, I almost fell on my face as he ripped it out of my hand.  
  
"We gotta talk Race," I panted.  
"Don't wanna," he said around the stub of his cigar. Rolling my eyes I puffed furiously on my cigarette and lengthened my strides to keep pace with him. He was almost out-walking me which was a laugh seeing as how he wasn't too much taller than I was.  
"Don't be an ass, Race," I spat.  
"Don't be a slut, Misery," he retorted. My mouth dropped open and I got in front of him and slammed a hand against his chest.  
  
"Excuse me?" I said in indignation, squinting up at him. He finally looked at me and I wanted to look away at the naked hurt that shown freely back at my eyes. Trying to walk around me, I met him at every angle.  
"I'm not a slut and you know it," I stated quietly but firmly. He looked down at me again and shook his head slowly. Flinging the stub of his cigar into an alleyway he sighed deeply before taking me by the shoulders and setting me to one side.  
  
"Looks can be deceiving then," was all he said before going on his way. To my shock I felt tears stinging at the corners of my eyes and I blindly dashed them away before running across the street away from the D.O. I heard people yelling my name asking me where I thought I was going, but I didn't care. I headed for the park, the river, anywhere I got first. It happened that I reached the park and I collapsed onto a bench, sobbing brokenly into my hands.  
  
I think I stayed on that bench for most of the day, crying on and off, cursing, smoking cigarette after cigarette until I was out of them. When that happened I hit up another grocer's store different than the one I had gone to with Race. Sniffling pathetically and berating myself for it the whole time, I ran into Blink and Pistol.  
  
Blink seemed oblivious to what was going on, but because Pistol was a female and therefore graced with our highly over-sensitive genes, she offered to buy me lunch at Tibby's a restaurant the newsies often frequented. I agreed because not only was I hungry, but because of today's outburst I was lacking in funds. As we walked along, I let out a hiccupping sob and coughed. Blink started violently and looked at me with concern widening his one good eye.  
  
"Oh Jesus are you cryin'? I'm allergic to cryin' girls." Stammering he held up his hands and looked about with an almost wild expression on his face. I think if he had reacted any differently I would have burst into tears all over again. But I couldn't help but laugh which made him relax considerably. I suppose that to see me laughing up at Blink didn't help things in other situations because Racetrack was standing outside Tibby's a scowl smeared across his face. My laughter cut off almost instantly and I glowered at him.  
  
"Let's go," Pistol grabbed my hand and forced me to walk past Race through the entrance. I didn't break eye contact with him as I swept by and I shook my head angrily muttering as we sat in a table away from the boisterous newsies who occupied the tables in the middle of the room.  
  
"Listen," Pistol hissed as I snapped open a leather-bound menu and perused it, my eyes not even seeing the words clearly.  
"This shit's got to stop, Misery. Race's been here a lot longer than you and if this keeps up Jack WILL ask you to leave. He can't have the sanity of the whole lodging house compromised by you two. If you're not getting along and it lasts too much longer then he will be forced to act." I defiantly raised my eyes to hers. They were blue, like Spot's, and almost as bright and intense.  
  
"Spot said I could stay with him." Pistol snorted an unpleasant sound as she lit a cigarette. I heard the bell on the door ring and saw Racetrack slide into a seat next to Crutchy and Blink at one of the tables. Bourbon was there as well, and I could see her watching Pistol and I, a worried expression in her normally guarded eyes.  
  
"You really think you'll like it in Brooklyn? I know you're from there and all, but those kids in that house they're something else. I'm amazed Pokey is still there to this day and I don't understand how Meesh can stand it. She didn't even stay there when she was with Spot. Those kids are cold as ice and meaner than a disturbed viper. They don't take shit from anybody." I almost mumbled 'except my brother's' but decided against it at the last minute.  
  
Feeling someone's gaze on me, I looked past Pistol's capped head to catch Racetrack watching us, no expression on his face. He looked tired, and unhappy. My heart lurched as I met his gaze and he silently raised an eyebrow before ripping his eyes away from mine. Pistol snapped dirty fingers in front of my face impatiently.  
  
"How satisfied are you that Spot just doesn't want you to sleep with him?" I shrugged, wary. How well could I know that? I had just met the kid, I didn't know the in's and out's of his mind. I knew that he was a legendary Romeo of Brooklyn, and like the popular Shakespeare play most of his relationships ended in tragedy. At this juncture in time I was almost not willing to care anymore. If Jack kicked me out I would go to Brooklyn and stay there. As unwise an idea as that was. I would have nowhere else to stay.  
  
The bell jingled again and the newsies rose up, welcoming cries on their lips as a tall, brown-haired man sauntered towards them. He wore a finely tailored suit and had his hands in his pockets. He was clean, and his hair was brushed nicely off of his forehead. A warm smile encompassed all of the kids as he turned a chair around backwards and flopped down next to Jack.  
"Who's that?" Pistol glanced over and shrugged.  
  
"That's Brian Denton, he writes for the Sun. He helped out during that big newsie strike and he's been a friend ever since. We know we can go to him for anything." Wheels started turning in my head as I looked the man over.  
"Anything, you say. He got connections?" Pistol grinned.  
"Yeah he does, the ever-so-famous Teddy Roosevelt for one." My eyes must have widened for Pistol laughed.  
"Jack and Spot met him and Spot got a ride back to Brooklyn in his carriage with him." I was thinking so fast that I thought for sure smoke was pouring out of my ears. I didn't care if Race was over there, I had to meet this man and talk to him. If the other kids could trust him, than so could I.  
  
"Introduce me," I said pulling my bowler hat off and letting my hair fall around my shoulders. Smoothing my clothing the best I could to which Pistol scoffed and remarked that Denton didn't care about nice clothes, just the kids, we made our way over to them.  
"Pistol, so nice to see you! Who's your friend?" I found myself looking into the warmest brown eyes I had ever seen (besides Crutchy's or Racetrack's that is) and a smile just as welcoming. Sticking out my hand I smiled shyly.  
"I'm Misery," I said. Denton's eyes faltered for a second before he winked at me and chuckled.  
  
"Just miserable or a misery to be around?" Grinning I shrugged.  
"Probably both, right Race?" Race almost choked on the sandwich he was eating and glared at me as Mush and Blink snickered. Denton looked at the both of us curiously before turning his attention back to me.  
"So I hear you help kids out if they need it and it's in your power." A serious look came into Denton's eyes as he nodded firmly.  
"Yes I do Misery, if it's in my power. Is there something I can do for you?" I nodded back and looked at him just as gravely.  
  
"Can I set up a time to come talk to you somewhere more, err..Private?" Denton shook his head yes and gave me a small card with neat writing engraved on it. The card had his name, position at the paper and the address of the building included. I clutched the card to me and looked at him, hope flaring briefly in my eyes.  
"Let's say you come by later, around four o'clock. I won't be leaving the office till five, so it gives us an hour to talk. Sound good?" I shook my head up and down mutely. Denton went on to drink a cup of coffee and catch up with the boys as well as girls who had joined the lodging house after the strike. I noticed while Pistol and I were standing there, that Racetrack answered his questions tersely and to the point. It seemed to bother Denton enough that he took Race outside to probably ask him a few questions.  
  
Sticking my hands into my pockets and rocking back and forth on my heels I cheekily stared at the other kids as they looked my way. I knew they were wondering what was going on with me and Race for him to be this upset. I got the impression that he was normally happy-go-lucky and a sarcastic little shit who they depended on for laughs. I was sorry that I had been the one to make him dip into this foul mood. Tapping my bowler hat onto my head, I whistled as nobody said too much.  
  
"Well this is fun and all, really. But I think I should probably get heading. Money to make and all." Sauntering out of Tibby's, I wasn't surprised when a hand caught my shoulder. Jack stood behind me, his eyes masked.  
"We need to talk, Misery." I shot a look over to where Racetrack was standing with Denton, shaking his head emphatically denying that anything was wrong with him. Sighing, and feeling myself deflate I nodded and let Jack lead me down the street to a low stone wall where we parked ourselves.  
  
Jack started to speak, but I held up a hand. I saw shock cross over his features before he settled back.  
"Pistol already told me the deal. If I don't shape up you're booting me. Or are you just going to go ahead and boot me?" Jack didn't answer so I kept prattling on.  
"I don't want Race to be mad at me, but he doesn't like it that Spot has an eye on me and that I can't help but have an eye on Spot back. Is it wrong to like two guys at the same time?" Still no answer.  
"So what is it Cowboy am I out?" Jack lit a cigarette and offered me one. I took it and waited for him to strike another match. Inhaling we sat quietly for a second or two before he started chuckling to himself.  
  
"Well you just answered all the questions that I knew were out of my bounds to ask you, but no Misery I'm not going to kick you out. What I wanted to know was what is it you need Denton for?" My breath caught and I coughed out a lungful of smoke. Nervously picking at a hangnail I sputtered before sighing.  
  
"I can't tell you just yet Jack. I wish I could, but.It's my business and its better you guys don't get involved." Jack patted my hand and I looked up at him.  
"If you need any help, just ask." Knocking my hat off of my head playfully, he darted away laughing as I surged to my feet swearing. He ran off his feet seeming to barely touch the sidewalk. Shaking my head in disgust I almost crawled out of my skin when a new voice caught me unawares.  
  
"So Misery you wanna go see a show tonight or somethin'?" I looked up at Skittery who was scuffing the toe of his boot against the sidewalk. Narrowing my eyes I glared at him.  
"I ain't easy, Skittery so if that's why you wanna do somethin' get bent." Skittery snorted a laugh and leered at me. My breath caught in my throat as a familiar voice spoke up.  
  
"Get outta here bum, and quit yer jawin'." Racetrack slapped Skittery across the face in a playful yet forceful manner that left Skittery yelping and holding up his hands in defeat. Tapping ash off of his cigar, he turned to me as Skittery retreated. Grasping my elbow firmly he lifted me up from where I was sitting and frog-marched me across the street. I smacked him on the arm to let me go after we narrowly missed getting hit by horse manure a passing team of lively-stepping horses were kind enough to let loose.  
  
"Where are you taking me?" Race stuck his cigar into the corner of his mouth and looked at me. His eyes weren't as cold or unfamiliar as they had been this morning.  
"Misery, I just wanted to apologize. It ain't like me to be so rotten to people, especially females. I just..was upset over seein' you with Spot last night is all."  
  
"Are..Are you still mad at me?" His gaze sharpened into something so fierce and intent that I took a step back. Blushing, he dropped his eyes and shook his head. Putting a hand into the small of my back he started walking with me instead of forcing me to walk. Once again I was hit with how right it felt to be with him and my stomach plummeted. I was acting worse than a bitch in heat, something which was totally unfamiliar to me. Either I got over my strange attraction to Spot or my comfortable easy attraction to Racetrack. Bitterly I told myself that either way it wouldn't matter if shit hit the fan.  
  
"For some god-awful reason I can't stay mad at you no matter how much I want to. I'm madder at Spot believe it or not." I shook my head and crossed my arms.  
"You shouldn't be it's not his fault." Racetrack snorted mirthlessly.  
  
"He knows when a guy takes a fancy to someone; he can keep his hands to himself if he chooses. Unluckily for me, I happened to end up liking a girl who was more a match for him than me." I missed a step and would have fallen if he hadn't stopped me.  
"What's that supposed to mean, I could be with you just as easily as him," I said softly. Race smirked at me, humor lighting his features into the boy he had been when I met him just a few days ago.  
  
"Who said I was talkin' about you dollface," he deadpanned before I punched his shoulder. Laughing and surreptitiously rubbing his arm he slung a forearm around my shoulders pulling me close to him.  
"I'm glad we're friends again," I voiced this opinion honestly and almost as quietly as before. Race squeezed my shoulder in response and nodded at me.  
  
"Me too kid, me too. You're a tough person to be mad at. Actin' all tough one minute and then as innocent as a nun in church the next." I blushed and poked his side roughly to which he bent forward, dragging me with him. We almost fell on our faces and started laughing. The rest of the afternoon I sold with Race until all our papers were gone. My heart felt light and I was smiling happily by the time we trudged back to the lodging house. My smile faltered a bit when I saw Spot sitting or rather lounging on the front steps. I saw Racetrack tense as Spot rose languidly and stretched.  
  
Approaching us, Spot looked at Race his blue eyes cool. No one said a word for a few moments until Spot cuffed the side of Race's head and took a few fake swings at him. Apparently this was something they did often for Race ducked and jabbed a few false punches at Spot's midsection before the two clasped hands and shook.  
  
"Good to have you back ya bum," Spot said lighting a smoke. I knew that he meant back from the dour mood that I had put him in. My face turned sour and I looked down at the ground before Spot stuck a finger under my chin and lifted it up so that I was looking into his eyes.  
  
"What's yer problem?" I shook my head silently. My skin felt charged where his fingers touched it, and he caressed my chin briefly before dropping his hand and turning his attention back to Race.  
"Look, just to show there are no hard feelings, there's going to be a poker game tomorrow night in Brooklyn and you're invited. I'm even going to let you win most of the hands." Racetrack clapped a hand to his knee a few times and laughed.  
  
"Sure Spot, funny. You know I can clear you and your boys out no problem." Spot sneered, yet in a friendly manner.  
  
"Ooo-kay Race, whatever you say." They stood guffawing at each other until I cleared my throat, snagged Spot's smoke away from him and entered the lodging house.  
"'Ey scabbah where the hell d'you think you're goin'?!"  
"Got a date with a man who writes for The Sun!" I hollered back at Spot's enraged voice and charged up the stairs almost mowing down Blink who thrust his hands out and steadied me so I wouldn't fall.  
  
"Jesus Misery, calm the hell down, the house ain't goin' nowhere." I stuck my tongue out at him and chuckled as he laughed and went down to the lobby. Whirling like a spinning top into the girl's room I almost took out Flinch who shrank down so far I thought she was going to lie on the floor. Stomping my foot I made her stand up straight.  
"I don't know who hurt you honey, and I don't care. I'd kill 'em either way. But you gotta stop actin' like they're breathin' down your neck because you have thirty kids who would murder'em in a second if they came after you again."\  
  
Shaking her slightly until she nodded at me with a dazed expression in her eyes, I let her go and flew to my bunk, shedding my dirty clothing and begging Pistol to let me use her dress again. I wanted to make a good impression with Denton so he wouldn't think I was crazy and turn me away.  
  
"It doesn't matter if you dress up nothing is going to hide the fact that you ARE crazy." I squinted at Bourbon who laughed into her hand and slapped the back of my head as I tried to sway by, my nose stuck into the air. I hurried into the washroom and splashed water onto my face and dried it off with a dirty towel I found. It stunk but I didn't care. I was just leaving the washroom when Race and Spot came up the stairs. Spot was looking at me like I had grown another head, until Race explained that I was going to a meeting with Denton about some issue. Spot looked at me thoughtfully.  
  
"Mind if I come along, girlie? We can do something after." I mumbled something that must have been acceptance for ten minutes later I was striding along the sidewalk, Spot matching my pace easily alongside of me.  
  
"Shit, Misery where's the fire?" I darted my eyes down and turned red as Spot chided me gently. He put his hand on the back of my neck, halting me to a stop. Putting an arm around my waist he kissed me thoroughly, leaving me quite breathless. As he pulled away I noticed that his eyes, normally a light, icy blue color had darkened to an almost violet.  
  
"I've wanted to do that since last night when ya left," he stated simply before taking my arm and starting us off once more. I was certain that I was at least four different shades of red but shrugged it off, enjoying the scandalous looks that we had gotten from people walking down the street. It seemed that we reached the building where Denton worked in no time. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my nerves. When no one had been looking I had snagged my diary from underneath the mattress of the bunk I slept in.  
  
Spot lit another cigarette and studied me for a moment before kissing me quite passionately again. Every part of me seemed to tingle and I relished the moment before a vision of Race's smiling face broke through my thoughts and made me feel like shit. Spot ended the kiss and massaged my lower back before pointing me in the direction of the building's lobby through some glass-plated doors.  
  
"Knock 'em dead, Misery. You sure just knocked me out with that one." My eyes darted to his to see if he was kidding me, but he looked quite serious, his lips slightly swollen. I felt my stomach churn in indecision. I was growing quite tired of the whole Race/Spot thing and I knew that if I was, then they were certainly doing the same thing. Squaring my shoulders I flipped my braid over my shoulder so it hung squarely down my back and made my way into the building to start the conference with Denton.  
  
A/N - ACK! Jesus is she starting to look like a ho, because I REALLY don't want her to look that way.  
  
SHOUT OUTS!! *dances* I love this part;  
  
Pokey - Yes I'm feeling quite better now, thank you. I have a nose full of boogies but who doesn't during this season? I'm glad you liked how your character herded all the Brooklyn newsies together; I figured that would be something she'd do. I think I'm going to keep you guys guessing, I don't think you'll figure out what I plan for the ending. I got the idea watching the Sopranos sooo. *grins* ; )  
  
Maybe I Don't Wanna Go - DAMN BROTHERS! I have two of 'em and someone else can have 'em if they want..heheh. I STILL haven't decided who Misery is going to end up with. I know, I SUCK!. Ah well. Hopefully you forgive me and you keep reading. If it's any consolation Spot is definitely my favorite. Although like Misery Racetrack keeps bumping that thought out of my head..That's probably where I'm getting this from. I can't decide so she can't decide. Damn me to Hell. ; )  
  
JustDuck - Oh to quote '10 Things I Hate About You' "the shit hath hitteth the fan-eth.." At least in the next chapter it will. I know what you mean about sleeping I think I slept for two days straight when I wasn't trying to breathe. I'm glad the characters seem to fit in with how I'm writing them. All this reading about Mary-Sue's in other people's stories and I'm afraid that my character's might be mimicking them. (God I hope not)  
  
Erin Sailor Ditz - Do not envy the fact that I can update so fast, it mean's simply this; I HAVE NO LIFE!! Ahaha..okay so maybe I have a SLIGHT life. But thank you so much, you made me turn all sorts of red! I hope you keep reading.  
  
Chelsea -- Spot is sitting here giving you evil eyes for trying to hit him but he's letting you get away with it since you're just a lowly 'goil'. I love Elvis and other fifties music with a PASSION. I love the Offspring too. Dood, Race did the voice to Jak and Daxter? I had no idea. Seriously you give me such the trivia I'm going to end up stalking the poor Casella lad.. *blinks* Okay so maybe he'd welcome it. And I love video games although my favorites are Final Fantasy and Grand Theft Auto/Vice City. Go figure. The fantasy and the organized crime. *shrugs* I loooooooooooooooooooooove luff luff your reviews!!  
  
Cabby1 or should I say Meesh - Her brother's surely are evil and you haven't even met 'em....yet.*duh duh duuuuuuuuuuuun* I'm trying to make this not just about love because well, that would be damn well like a lot of other people's stories! And I'm trying not to feed the elusive yet ever- present Mary-Sue fire with my characters. *ducks frying pan* Watch where you're swinging that thing, sweetie ; D 


	10. Chapter Ten

I hesitantly entered the building and after breathing deeply, looked around. There was a large desk sitting in the center of a spacious lobby. The floors sparkled, and everything was clean. I was almost immediately accosted by a man sitting behind the desk furiously scribbling down notes.  
  
"Miss, can I help you? Miss? Do you have an appointment?" I looked at him and tried not to wrinkle my nose. He looked like a rather self-centered little toad, hopping around trying to get my attention. I patiently placed my hands on my hips and cocked my head at him.  
  
"Yessir, I have an appointment with a Mr. Brian Denton. I do believe if you contact him, he'll send me straight up. He's expecting a Misery." The man's eyebrows clambered up his forehead at a rapid speed as he looked up at me.  
  
"Misery? What sort of a Christian name is that? Are you foreign?" I bit back a laugh and shook my head. The man tried to hem and haw his way out of not sending word up stairs but fortunately for me I heard Brian Denton's voice echo in the lobby as he spied me on his way up the stairs to our left.  
  
"Misery! I was afraid you wouldn't come, here follow me." As we disappeared up the staircase, he leaned down and whispered that he was sorry if the little man behind the desk had given me a hard time.  
  
"He takes his job rather seriously. Why don't you look nice!" He had noticed my dress. I smiled at him and nodded as we entered a room filled with desks and a group of men typing away furiously and running around at break-neck speed. It seemed nobody sat still for even a moment. I got a few offhand glances but nobody was paying attention to anything that wasn't work. Brian herded me into a small corner office and told me to sit down in front of a desk piled high with papers and books.  
  
He offered me a tin cup filled with tea, which I gladly accepted. It was slightly bitter and didn't have milk, but I drank it just the same. Leaning on his elbows, he sat behind his desk and looked at me expectantly.  
  
"Okay," I started slowly. Taking my diary out from where I had yet again tucked it into my boot, I placed it carefully onto Denton's desk.  
"I assume you've heard about the newsie who died a week or so ago from Spot Conlon's territory?" Denton nodded, and a mixture of sadness and anger crossed his handsome features. I fiddled with the leather binding that I used to keep my diary shut and looked at my hands the whole time.  
  
"Spot's always had fights with this gang of boys known as the Finnegan boys who are from Green Point, in Brooklyn. I..Well..This is really hard for me to say. The leaders of that gang are my brother's. I'm Caitlin 'Misery' Finnegan. The reason I'm here in Manhattan is because I ran away from them and ended up on Spot's docks. Racetrack found me and brought me here. I want to help erase what my brother's have done. I want it to stop." I took a shaky breath and patted the diary that lay in front of me absently.  
  
"This has all the names of the judges and policemen in Brooklyn that my brother's are paying to keep quiet about the crimes and murders they've done. It also has the locations of some bodies. I want you to have it. I want you to make sure they get put away for good. Can't you let the police know or even Mr. Roosevelt? I'm not lying, honest. They can investigate, they'll find the bodies and proof off the payoffs. I can even tell you when and were my brother's meet up with the cops in Brooklyn to give them the money." Risking a glance in Denton's direction I was met with eyes wide with shock. Taking an extra large gulp of tea, he spluttered and waved his hands, his eyes suddenly gone excited.  
  
"This is going to be huge! Don't you worry Misery," he patted my hand and shot up from his seat like someone had lit a fire underneath his arse. Striding around his office, he raved about her courage and how he was certain that Roosevelt would help them rid Green Point of scum like that.  
  
"I personally know two judges who are itching to get rid of the Finnegan boys. This is excellent." I nodded, a smile creeping across my face in relief. Then I looked up at him, worry clouding my eyes once more.  
  
"You can't tell the newsies that I'm a Finnegan, though Denton. They don't know and I'd like to keep it that way if I could. I don't think if they found out who I was and that I had lied to them, they'd be very happy." Denton scratched his chin, looking at me musingly.  
  
"I really don't think it will be that hard for them to understand why you wanted to keep this quiet, but if that's what you want." I nodded vigorously and he shrugged and agreed. I felt an enormous weight being lifted from my shoulders. After I shook Denton's hand repeatedly and thanked him sounding I hoped, not like a babbling idiot, I skipped down the staircase his reassurances that he would act on my information immediately ringing in my ears.  
  
Outside Spot was leaning up against the building, his eyes closed, a cigarette dangling from his lips. They were curved slightly upwards in a small smile. I studied him for a moment or two. His arms were crossed, and his sleeves rolled up to reveal the narrow muscles bunched in his forearms. He wore a black string with a key on it around his neck. I had no idea where he had gotten the thing or what it meant to him. I knew he hadn't had it when I had first met him years ago. A lock of his ashen blonde hair fell into one eye, and he wore his usual costume of clothing.  
Suddenly as if he had known I was there his eyes opened to regale me with an amused look. I had always been struck by how blue his eyes were. This time wasn't any different. We looked at each other for a few more seconds before he silently held out his hand. I put my own into it and we started heading back towards the lodging house, although I knew we probably weren't going straight there.  
  
"You look much happier now that you've talked to Denton," Spot observed. I blushed and just nodded my head. I wasn't about to let anything slip to Spot although I could tell he was dying to know. His hand tightened on mine, and I ignored it, freeing my hand momentarily to light another cigarette. He recaptured my hand almost as quickly as I had let his go.  
  
"So where are you taking me?" I asked him as we walked together. He winked at me and I shook my head. We ended up at a small pub right before the Brooklyn Bridge on the Manhattan side. Spot called the bartender 'Malcolm' and we were seated at a small table in the back. Spot told me to order whatever I wished, he had some money. I knew that he didn't have much, so I only asked for a bowl of soup and a pint. Luckily a piece of warm, crusty bread was also included and I gnawed on it thankfully. Spot snorted with laughter and watched me with intent eyes. I shivered slightly and hoped that he would stop sometime soon. The small pub began to fill up with working class individuals and some street-walkers. Apparently Spot knew some of them as well for a few tarts wandered over, exclaiming over the boy. Giving one of his infamous cool-eyed glowers seemed effective, for they all drifted away rather quickly.  
  
We drank a few more pints and then exited the pub, although the night was still young. The rest of the night was spent walking around, and then more for Spot's pleasure than mine, seeing a cock fight in a back room down a side street in Manhattan. I begged to go wait for Spot outside, but he just frowned at me, tearing his eyes away from the furiously fighting roosters before guiding me outside with a hand in the small of my back.  
"This ain't no place for a girl to be hangin' around by herself," he chided me lighting a smoke and then taking the still burning match and lighting the cigarette I held up to my own mouth. I jerked a thumb back towards the room crowded with cigar smoke and hollering men.  
  
"Better to be out here than in there," I said sharply. Spot merely inclined his head and looked down at me before slinging an arm around my shoulders.  
  
"I think it's time I got you home." When we paused in front of the Duane Street Lodging House, I waited to see if Spot would enter along with me, but he kissed me and hugged me close to him before saying that he needed to go check on his boys. I watched him swagger down the street towards Brooklyn, swinging his cane and whistling a jaunty Irish tune. I felt a sharp pull at my heart seeing him go and I knew I'd remember him like that forever, no matter how old I got, or how long I knew him.  
  
"'Ey Misery! Come on upstairs and play some poker!" Pistol was violently tugging on my sleeve, and I gave in and ran up the stairs after her.  
  
The next day was spent selling papers and cavorting with Racetrack. I felt more than a little guilty with the time I spent with either boy. Spot Conlon's stolen kisses and Racetrack's adoring attention was beginning to wear me out. By the time evening rolled around, a large group of the Manhattan newsies were making our way to Brooklyn for a poker game.  
  
I walked alongside Racetrack, Jack, Meesh, Bourbon, Pistol, Kid Blink, Mush, Bumlets, Skittery, and Dutchy. The rest had opted to stay back at the lodging house. Rags had practically begged on hands and knees to be included, but so far no luck. I could see the sunlight setting on the East River as we made our way to the warehouse in Brooklyn. Two sentries, tall muscular boys with no expression on their faces halted us, and then recognizing a few of us let us pass. I shuddered when I saw the thick clubs tucked into the backs of their trousers. Not just armed with slingshots, were these two.  
  
We were greeted at the front door by a serene looking Pokey who was juggling a small newsie who only looked to be Ladybug's age, about five. The boy was rapidly crawling all over Pokey's back and pulling on her hair.  
  
"For the love of all that's holy, Monkey cut it out!" The boy merely stuck his fist into his mouth and glowered at all of us, causing most of us girls to coo in admiration at his cuteness. Looking alarmed, he clambered off of Pokey and beat a hasty retreat. The boys slapped their knees.  
  
"Way to go," Jack panted looking at Pistol, Bourbon, Meesh and I.  
"You really scared him off," Racetrack hooted holding onto Blink's shoulder for support, wiping tears out of the corners of eyes. I cuffed him soundly and he stuck a finger in my face.  
  
"Don't do that, Misery," he warned. I bit his finger solemnly and he yowled and proceeded to chase me around the room. That is until Spot sauntered down the stairs, his eyes locked onto me. There was a large table in the middle of the downstairs room, and I was shocked to see Loon sitting at a chair by it. He looked a lot better, and he was smiling. The Manhattan newsies surrounded him, slapping his back and hugging him. The boy looked positively radiant at the attention. I was introduced to him, and at first he started in shock. I pleaded silently that I didn't remind him of my brother's looks-wise too much. But apparently I didn't, for he shook his head and welcomed me with a slight, shy smile.  
  
We settled around the table, and soon after that general mayhem occurred. Someone dragged out a box that was full of crudely sealed bottles of ale. Spot sat by my side, providing me with drinks and lighting my cigarettes. I looked up at one point and saw Racetrack watching us steadily a look of such intense yearning shining in his dark eyes that I was transfixed. He immediately wiped the emotions off of his face when he saw me looking and the next time I met his gaze, he was guarded.  
  
The third time that this happened; I realized that I couldn't bear it anymore. Rising, I muttered something about needing fresh air, and made my way outside. More than slightly tipsy, I stumbled past the two sentries, one who made a crude comment that had I been less intoxicated, I would have punched him for, as I passed. I heard footsteps behind me, and I increased my speed. Hearing swearing, I almost made it down an alleyway when hands grabbed my shoulders.  
  
"Fuck Misery, what's the problem?" I fought back before I realized it was Spot. Yellow light from a streetlamp illuminated his handsome profile as he held my hands tightly against his chest, causing me to stop struggling almost instantly.  
  
"N-nothing, Spot, nothing at all." Releasing me, he grasped my hand and walked with me before I leaned up against an alleyway wall. I was tired suddenly, so tired that I just wanted to sink down to the ground and sleep for ages. Lighting a cigarette I inhaled deeply before exhaling out of my nose. Spot stood silently assessing me with his disturbingly piercing eyes. I opened my mouth to say something to him before freezing, mid-sentence as we heard the clatter of a kicked can.  
  
Spot was instantly by my side, grasping my arm in his hand, his eyes furiously intent on trying to reach through the darkness of the alleyway.  
  
"Who the fuck is there?" His voice was raspy, yet strong. I heard ice- cold laughter and the hairs on the back of my neck lifted. A nasty sounding voice echoed clearly in the night air.  
  
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Spot fucking Conlon. And who's this? Is that our baby sister, Jaime?" I felt like fainting as the pair of men entered the lamplight, their eyes blank of emotion, swinging clubs, brassknuckles adorning their hands.  
  
"I believe it is at that, Murph. Hullo Misery, fancy meeting you here." Spot's eyes flew to my face and I winced at the enraged hurt that flared in them before he squared his jaw and faced my brother's. Ten other men followed my brother's out of the darkness, all armed, all equally as formidable in size and strength. I heard Spot cursing underneath his breath and I do believe it was then that I did faint.  
  
Just Duck - Yes, I know what you mean, I too have read far too many stories in which case Spot has beaten Race out. We'll see what happens. And yes, I must admit that Mary-Sue's don't really bother me, just the lack of originality in some of their cases. I don't think Misery's a whore, I think she's just human. Apparently I'm not the only one but I did see someone disagree. Hehe..As long as she's a lovable slut than who can blame her ;) . And I ALWAYS go for the guys who can make me laugh. There's nothing else like 'em.  
  
Irish Rover - ANOTHER name?! My goodness girl you do change 'em quick. And yes, you would be right about Misery ratting out her brother's. Do they get even? We'll have to wait and see.  
  
Netangel182 - Good, I'm so glad it's believable. Glad to see you're still reading!!.  
  
Cabby1 - Eee, I'm so glad you like it! Hehe Race does deserve a smack but you were right to give him an icepack.. See Race, she IS still nice to you..  
  
Race: Sure, sure. Tell that to me achin' head.. *pout*  
  
Heheh..He'll get over it..the big baby..  
  
Pokey7 - Yeah it sure is. Curse the cold weather, I'm always sick all winter long. Oh well. Such is life. I'm glad Race and Misery are talking again, I couldn't make them stay mad at each other. I just couldn't..  
  
Chronicles Bailey - Ahah.at least she's a lovable ho. And I would definitely have issues about choosing between Race and Spot. It would put me in quite the situation. *daydreams*  
  
erin sailor ditz-Hah! Of course I don't think you're a bitch for correcting me, if that's how you want it, no problem it's not a big deal ( . Wahoo I got some jiggles and wiggles!! That's awesome!! Thank you so much!  
  
Chelsea - That's fine, you can review me under whatever name you want as long as you still review! :P Hehe..kidding. Okay so not really. OHMYGOD I love Davy Jones. Love him! He's so little and cute!. I can so see Max Casella as a Timon. Definitely. One of my close friends is obsessed with Vice City and I think it's a riot when she picks up hookers. Ah so funny, I'm so immature. Bwahaha..anyway. I'm glad you're still obsessed with my story! My mom wants to marry Bill Pullman she thinks he's so hot. I do too in an older, more dignified way.  
  
Jocelyn Padoga - Yay! New reviewer!! I'm glad you like it, I hope you keep reading!. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins wasn't a fool and he normally didn't let emotions dictate his actions. Normally seen as one of the more brash newsies because of his incontrollable love for gambling, he was actually quite usually in control of everything else in his life. Until Misery came along, that is.  
  
It was so strange to him, this powerful ache in his heart that occurred whenever he thought of her, or looked at her. Strange not only because she was the first girl that he had felt like this about, but also because he had known her a total of what, three or four days? And then there was Spot Conlon.  
  
Race had met Spot through Jack before the infamous Brooklynite had become the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He and Spot had gotten along well, they both loved to play poker and they both liked trying out their charm on pretty girls. Race had a smart mouth that Spot had found highly amusing and Spot had a highly charismatic yet aloof and tough personality that Race looked up to. Spot, Jack and he had become a constant trio for a while, always running around Manhattan and Brooklyn together after they were done selling for the day.  
  
Now with Misery here, he and Spot's friendship had gotten quite strained. Race was upset that this had happened. He knew deep down inside that Spot wasn't just doing this to piss Race off. He knew that Spot was attracted to Misery just as much as he. This put all of them into quite a quandary. In any other circumstance Racetrack would be expected to bow down to Spot and let him pursue Misery as Spot was higher up on the status hierarchy. But Race wasn't so eager to let go of Misery.  
  
She made him laugh, she stole cigars for him. She fought with him with spirit and made him protective over her when she drank too much or when she day-dreamed and put herself in danger of walking into things. She made him lustful when she dressed in a nice dress and when they had kissed. Misery made him yearn to just gather her up in his arms and stay that way with her for hours. And she made him hate himself when he had spoken harshly to her and tears had filled her eyes.  
  
When she had stumbled away from the poker game in Brooklyn, Race had watched Spot look after her and then get up and follow. He had tried to pay attention to the game; he was actually winning for once. But his thoughts kept straying to Misery and how if she was upset, he wanted to be the one to comfort her, not just Spot. So gathering his winnings into his pocket, he rose and muttered something about needing to take a leak and getting some fresh air. Cries of protest arose as he did so, but he just smirked at everyone and told them that he'd be back to take more of their money in no time.  
  
When he asked the two boys who were posing as sentries if they had seen which way Spot and Misery had gone, they had shrugged and pointed with their clubs down the street to their right. Race wandered down the street, keeping an eye out for the pair. Hearing a scuffle and some shouts, he ducked behind a barrel and poked his head up over the top just enough so that he could see. A gang of about twelve men emerged from a nearby alley, carrying a person slung over one of their shoulders, and a struggling, enraged Spot who had blood trailing down the side of his face.  
  
Race felt his heart constrict when he realized that the unconscious person was Misery. When they were a safe distance away, Race began to follow them.  
  
I slowly regained consciousness only to wish that I hadn't, when I saw the furious glint of Spot's blue eyes hanging over my face. He had my head cradled in his lap, and his find blonde hair was matted with blood.  
  
"Tell me that they're wrong, Misery. Tell me that you ain't their sister." His voice was harsh and low. I closed my eyes briefly and felt a feather-light touch as Spot stroked the side of my face.  
  
"I wish with all my heart that I wasn't, but I am." I heard him breathe raggedly and swear in a barrage of words that would make a sailor blush. But he didn't throw me away from him, and he didn't stop stroking my face.  
  
"Why did you lie? Why didn't you tell the truth?" I snorted mirthlessly and sat up, only to find myself entangled in his arms as he slid them around my waist. The room we were in was dark and dank and I shuddered as I realized it was the cellar of the building my brother's and his gang inhabited. So we were back in Green Point. Oh, how I had not missed this place. A sliver of moonlight filtered through a small broken window high above our heads.  
  
"Spot what would you have done if I had told the truth? Thrown me right back into the river after Racetrack pulled me out. I'm not Misery to you now, I'm a Finnegan. That ain't gonna change is it?" Spot's lips sought mine and I felt him shake his head as he pressed them to my own.  
  
"Now I know why you were so familiar to me. I always used to see you runnin' around with the younger Brooklyn newsies when your brother's were in charge." I nodded silently and we sat, our thoughts racing in the darkness. I wondered what my brother's were going to do to us.  
  
Most definitely they were going to try to get whatever information out of me about my diary they could before they got rid of me, and they would definitely get rid of Spot. With Spot out of the way there was a chance they could re-take the Brooklyn lodging house over although they were all too old to sell papers. They could control who the newsboys paid.  
  
"Shit, Misery. I like you why do you have to be one of them?" His cry of anger echoed in my ears and I felt rage course up my veins.  
"I am NOT one of them, Spot Conlon!"  
  
"To my boys you're as good as one. Your last name makes you one of them and they ain't going to forget that no matter how much I like you. They remember Cards, we all do. It wasn't long ago at all that happened. We're all still out for blood. They'll come to rescue me, and the Manhattan newsies will come for you, but I don't know what will happen when they find out you're a Finnegan. You're just as bad to them even though you haven't done anything to us."  
  
I knew he spoke the truth. I wasn't sure how the Manhattan kids were going to take this, but I knew the Brooklyn kids would want to rip me limb from limb after they were done with the gang. I shivered at the thought of what else might happen to me, being a girl and all. Spot's arms tightened around me at my involuntary shudder and we sat still for awhile. I knew that I wouldn't be able to see Spot if we lived through this. I knew it was going to get out that I was a Finnegan.  
  
Suddenly a door opened and two sets of feet clattered down a rickety staircase. One held a lantern and he hung it on a hook in the low ceiling. I looked up at my two brothers from the relative safety of Spot's arms. They sneered at me and looked back.  
  
Murphy stared down at me, his brown hair darker than mine, his hazel eyes blank. He was rough around the edges, and dressed in clothes that were as raggedy as the newsies. Jaime wore nicer clothes and slicked his brown hair back with pomade. It worked well with the high angles of his cheekbones but nothing could rid his eyes of their eerie maniacal glow.  
  
"Such an ungrateful brat, isn't she?" I had forgotten the beautiful tones of my brother's voices. They still carried the lilt of Ireland in them. I was the only child born here in America. My brother's had lived in Ireland for a few years before coming over with my parents.  
  
"Sodding ungrateful little wench," my brother Jaime agreed. Murphy stepped forward and ripped me out of Spot's arms sending him reeling with a casual blow. I cried out, but Murphy clasped a dirty hand over my mouth shaking me like a rag doll.  
  
"Where's your fucking little book, Misery?! Where did you put it?" He backhanded me and I could taste the coppery tint of blood in my mouth as my lip split. Spitting onto the front of his shirt, I sneered at him in disgust.  
  
"Like I'm going to fucking tell you, you idiot." Murphy exclaimed in dismay as my blood stained his shirt and his knuckles tightened until they were bone-white as he lifted me close to his face.  
  
"You better behave or else we'll give you to our boys upstairs. They've missed you, Misery. Tell me what I want to know and you and your boyfriend," he said this word with a curled lip "can go to the next world relatively pain-free." I shook my head again and he threw me to the floor violently. Jaime kicked Spot hard in his side and Spot groaned and lay still. I dumped to the floor, cradling Spot against me and tried to miss a kick that my brother Jaime aimed at me. I failed, and I hissed in pain as his boot connected with my upper thigh.  
  
"We'll come back later. Maybe a day or two without water or food will loosen your tongue." I didn't answer back as they went upstairs. I could hear shouts and dim music and concluded that they were celebrating our capture. I wondered dimly before I slumped into a faint again when my brother's thugs would be making an appearance.  
  
Racetrack paused long enough in front of the building he had seen the gang disappear into to get his bearings before setting off back to the lodging house at a speed that would make one of the horses he bet on at the tracks jealous. The two sullen newsies acting as guards stared at him wide-eyed as he puffed past. He barely noticed, and didn't stop until he slammed open the door to the lodging house. Assailed by many pairs of curious eyes, he stopped to try to catch his breath.  
  
"What the hell is going on Race?" Jack was by his side instantly, surrounded by Pokey, Meesh, and the rest of the kids. Someone thrust a glass of beer into Racetrack's face and he winced, wishing it was water before downing it anyway.  
  
"Spot....Misery....taken by the Finnegan boys." Shouts erupted in the room and the Brooklyn kids immediately began arming themselves. Jack hauled Race up by his shoulders.  
  
"Where did they take them?"  
  
"Green Point, I followed them to the building. It's by the water, small little warehouse. Misery was unconscious Jack, she wasn't awake." Pistol clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide and getting suspiciously bright with tears. Bourbon began smacking a fist into the palm of her hand repeatedly while the boys began accepting weapons that the Brooklyn kids were handing over. Jack looked around the room and raised a hand to his mouth blowing an ear-splitting whistle.  
  
"Alright ya bums, let's plan this out a little. The girls are staying here," shouts of protest filled the air before Jack grasped Bourbon's shoulder and glared at her.  
  
"The Finnegan's aren't kids, Bourbon. They're men and they know how to fight. You girls won't stand a chance, no offense." Bourbon silently regarded him before nodding and bowing down, her face stoic. The girls arrayed themselves behind her, angry but quiet once more.  
  
"Now you Brooklyn kids, I'm a leader so I'll head this up." There were slight mutters but most of the Brooklyn boys knew Jack already so they didn't argue. Jack went on to say that they needed to stick to alleyways and back streets so as not to attract attention from any patrolling policemen.  
  
It was late and a gang of kids their age would be sure to get thrown into the Refuge for running around like goons. Secondly, he personally went around and picked the kids who were to accompany them. He picked based on size and he also peered at their eyes to see how many were at ease with the idea of going to brawl.  
  
Any who looked nervous or scared, he made stay behind to help 'guard the girls and the lodging house'. Finally, when they had the group all sorted out, Jack lifted his head and looked towards the door.  
"Alright let's go beat those fucks," a cheer went up and the boys exited the building, ready to fight.  
  
Chelsea - Hehe..I laugh at the word penis too. I'm laughing right now because I had to type it. I'm glad my story makes you happy that makes me happy. I sounded like 'Rainman' right there. I say hot 'haht' too. Must be the accent, it works funny like that. Hehe don't worry Race will come to the rescue he's Racetrack, he has to. I like the idea of him in a cape with rock-hard pecs.  
  
Jocelyn Padoga - Ooh threatening now aye? That's cool. What with work and it being the holiday's I'm sorry I couldn't do a one day update. I do update fast though so hopefully I can update again soon.  
  
KatFightOnSkis - Muaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahaha.Cliffhangers suck yes they doooo and I am evil. I am, but I had to update I couldn't leave it at that.  
  
Netangel182-Here you go my dear!  
  
Pokey7 -- *sighs* I know what you mean. And yes Race is horribly cute. I had to write him as that way because he just is. I know it. And yeah people would have to find out eventually so it had to happen.  
  
Irish Rover - Yes! I am evil! And here is another update for you.  
  
Cabby1 - Yay I love being in people's stories!! Thank you! I love a good cliffhanger too as long as it gets updated fast. Hehe.  
  
Erin sailor ditz - Whoo hooo you almost peed yourself! I think that's the ultimate compliment. And yeah guys don't get shit most of the time and you can't ever pretend that they do. Some of them are good like that but the majority just doesn't GET IT. Alright! Jiggles and wiggles! You rock! 


	12. Chapter Twelve

A/N - Don't hate me for this next chapter, guys. It's going to be horribly angsty and I'll try to keep it as PG-13 as possible. If you don't like violence or other erm..'things' don't read this chapter!. I mentioned it in the previous chappie. Aherm. ::hides::...::peeks back out:::  
  
A special shout-out to JustDuck and erinsailorditz for reading 'May the Road Rise to Meet You". I know it was sad, it was meant to be. Thank you both for sucking it up and reading it, I appreciated it. ::dives for cover again::  
  
I woke up to feel hands roughly tugging me out of Spot's arms. He woke too from where I guess he had been nodding off and yelled hoarsely, rising to his feet only to be knocked back down by a pair of meaty, large fists. Rank, rancid breath was gusting down the back of my neck in hot spurts. I craned my neck to look around my shoulder and up and almost screamed.  
  
Georgie 'Pain' Maguire was holding me tightly up against his rather large, solid body. He had a nose that had been broken more than a few times, yellowed teeth with gaps where some were missing, and beady black little eyes that sat emotionless in his ruddy, beefy face.  
  
His short brown hair lay on the crown of his head in lank tufts. I felt my stomach roil in disgust as I looked over and saw his younger brother Joseph holding a candle and grinning like a hyena at me. Young Joseph was like his brother in every way. Large body, disgusting features, and pea-brained.  
  
My brother's actually referred to him as 'Young Joseph'. It was amusing but then again it wasn't. Nothing about my brother's and their minions proved to be humorous in the long run. They weren't nice in any way and they loved to give pain and suffering like a normal person would give a present at Christmas, delighting in the other person's reaction.  
  
"Hullo boys haven't seen you in awhile." My lip where Murphy had struck me was swollen and sore. Pain sneered at me and his fist gripped my arm tighter. They had been the two most avid in their quest to de-flower me at a young age when I had been staying with my brother's. I'm sure you don't need an explanation as to why I respectfully declined.  
  
I felt panic sink its claws into me as they started dragging me to the stairs. I threw a glance in Spot's direction but he had been pummeled one too many times tonight and was lying senselessly on the dirt floor. I struggled fiercely and Pain finally dropped me, spitting close to my head in disgust before Young Joseph shrugged and put the lantern down on the floor.  
  
"We can do it just as easily here as we could somewheres else, missy." I choked and I think my eyes were as wide as my head as I felt arms restrain me. The last thing I remember was seeing Young Joseph's thick fingers fumbling with the buttons at the front of his pants.  
  
Racetrack strode alongside Jack and a few Brooklyn newsies. The streets were dark and creepy, but far from empty. Apparently Brooklyn had different ideas about when a decent time to go to sleep was. Whores and drunken men littered the street corners, and they avoided many a policeman.  
  
Racetrack's thoughts flew through his head at a rapid speed. He felt a sense of urgency like he had never felt before. His only desire was to get to Misery and Spot and get them out of harm's way. A few of the Manhattan newsies were nervously joking back and forth, something Race normally partook in as well, but he had no desire to do that right now.  
  
Jack was in his element, at the head of a group of kids hell-bent on raising chaos. He hadn't had this since the strike some time ago, and it was nice to have this feeling back even if it was at the expense of some of his friends. They continued on through the night, tensions in the group strung tight.  
  
If I chose to remember what happened the rest of that night, I think I could describe it with alarming clarity. Pain and Young Joseph took advantage of me, and left me on the disgusting floor of my brother's basement, bleeding and numb to just about everything.  
  
Spot found me like that sometime later, and he shed some tears, but he's a male, he didn't know what to do and there was nothing he could say to make me feel better. I remember he tried to pull me to him and I scuttled away like a crab and burrowed against the stone wall.  
  
It wasn't long before we heard the crashes and the hollers and loud footsteps overhead. This went on for about an hour, Spot cursing and running to try the cellar door only to find it bolted from the other side. I just sat and absently stroked the side of the wall with my fingertips. When it all of a sudden grew quiet, Spot began pounding on the door, yelling. I hunched closer to the floor when footfalls crossed the floor above us and made their way to the door.  
  
"Spot?" Spot rested his head against the door briefly before saying in a gruff voice;  
"Yeah Jackie-boy it's me. Get us the hell out of here." It took them a few tries of trying to break down the door before Pick; a Brooklyn newsie shouldered his way to the front and picked the lock. The door swung open, and the newsies swarmed Spot, clapping him on the back and exclaiming over his many bruises and the blood that stained the side of his face and the front of his shirt.  
  
Spot staggered slightly and Riddle put his shoulder underneath Spot's arm. Someone tossed him his cane, and leaning on Riddle and using his cane, he cocked his head back towards the cellar.  
  
"Misery...They...It was bad, Jack. Real bad." With that, Racetrack sprung towards the steps followed by Jack. When I saw Race, I wasn't as frightened but I still wouldn't let him touch me. It took them fifteen minutes just to coax me to get up off the floor before Racetrack grabbed me. I struggled for a second before he grasped my chin in his hand and looked me in the eyes.  
  
"Misery, stop." I fell limply against him and he swung me over his shoulder like a sack of flour. In a way, I was glad because I was too sore to walk up the stairs let alone all the way from Green Point to Spot's warehouse. Upstairs I averted my eyes from the hovel that was my brother's dwelling and only let them grow large when I saw them tied up cursing and glaring bloody murder at the few newsies left to guard them. Most of my brother's gang had fled. I cringed and waited for the explosion.  
  
"You bitch! You just wait, you little whore, we'll get you. Did you like Georgie and Young Joseph?! You wait there's more where that came from, little sister." Racetrack spat a swear at them in Italian and grabbed his crotch to which most of the newsies although not fluent in Italian, but fluent in obscene gestures crowed and hooted. I waited for Race to drop me after hearing them call me 'little sister' but when he didn't; I figured it would happen later.  
  
Together, the group of newsies made their way back to Spot's to lick their wounds. I felt someone stroking my hair at one point, and looked up to see Kid Blink and Mush watching me with worry in their eyes. I felt a pang in my chest and looked away, shifting uncomfortably and wishing I could walk so that I didn't have to be carried like this.  
  
Riddle silently strode up and took me from Race, giving him a look when he protested, and cradled me in his strong arms like a baby. I was shorter than Racetrack and even Pistol, so I wasn't much to carry. I burrowed my face into Riddle's chest and sobbed quietly. He didn't say anything, just let me cry.  
  
When we reached Spot's warehouse, the girls burst out of the building followed by the rest of the newsies. Pistol let out a shriek when she saw me, and Bourbon's eyes narrowed dangerously. Meesh shoved her way to the front and flipping her hair over her shoulder, sternly directed Riddle to lay me out on a bunk.  
  
Spot hoarsely told him to put me in his room on the cot Loon had occupied. Pokey stood with her hands clasped over her mouth, watching me as they swept me inside and up the stairs.  
  
The instant I was set down, all the boys were kicked out of the room. Bourbon gathered me into her arms and I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Pistol began to cry as well, and Meesh flew about gathering things left over from her taking care of Loon.  
  
"Did they...did they..?" Pistol's voice hitched and I gave her a blank stare to which Bourbon stood up and screamed angrily. I heard voices outside the door and Bourbon wrenched it open.  
  
"If you have a penis, I don't want to see your face!" The boys retreated instantly and I began to laugh, albeit a rather crazy sounding laugh at that. Meesh began tending to my wounds, and when it came time for her to finish, she gave me a steady look and asked if I wanted to do it myself. I nodded and the room cleared out.  
  
I washed myself the best I could, wincing as the water in the bowl turned a rusty color. When I called out that I was done, Meesh returned and tucked me into the cot. I didn't want to think about sharing the room with Spot, but I was exhausted. Besides sleep had to be better than being awake.  
  
When you're wrong, you're wrong, and boy was I wrong. I awoke a few hours later covered in a cold sweat, shaking. The nightmares I had had were intense and so lifelike it felt like it was happening all over again. I jolted when I realized that someone was sitting on the edge of my cot stroking my hair whispering to me in Gaelic. I hadn't heard that language since my father and it calmed me slightly. I looked up into Spot's eyes and winced at the knowing that was there.  
  
"I should have stopped it," he whispered. He took my hand into one of his own and squeezed it. I had never seen the tough Brooklyn boy look so devastated. It wasn't pleasant to see.  
  
"First Cards, and now you. I couldn't stop it; I couldn't help either of you, and now look. Cards is dead and you..You've been violated." I closed my eyes tightly and shivered. Spot heaved a sigh and looked out his window towards the river before smoothing my hair once more.  
  
"Roll over," he said pushing me so that he could sit on the cot more. I obeyed and rolled onto my stomach. He began rubbing my back and when I gave him another glance I saw starkness in his features and knew that he had made a choice about something. It would probably only be a matter of time until I found out what it was.  
  
"Go mbiodh biseach ort gan mhoill. Codlah samh," I drowsily gave into closing my eyes and letting sleep take me away. I think I smiled for the first time that night as the familiar language rolled off of Spot's tongue. I didn't wake up until a few hours later when there was a furious pounding on Spot's door.  
  
He leapt out of bed and as I sat up, blinking blearily, he pulled his suspenders up over his bare chest to keep his trousers up and flung his door open, anger smeared across his face. A group of furious Brooklyn newsies stood in the hallway, their eyes trained on the cot where I sat gripping the blankets in my hands tightly.  
  
"What the fuck is the big idea," Spot hissed his voice cool and emotionless. One of the newsies pointed to where I sat, with a club clenched in one fist.  
  
"We came for the Finnegan whore," he spat. I sat helplessly and let my life tumble to the ground around me once more.  
  
Pokey7 - Thank you! Spot will still like her no matter what but it depends on how much balls he has to stand up for her and her last name. We'll see, he 'is' really tough and all.  
  
My dog ate my penname - Yay you're back! I was wondering what happened to you. I hate math with A PASSION. I'm not good at it all, which is funny because I work as a cashier. Hm. Oh well. Misery's brother's are huge bastards. HUGE! Thank you I'm so glad you like my story.  
  
Jocelyn Padoga - I wish I had a Race too. And a Spot, and Kid Blink, and maybe a Jack. Awww well here's an updation so you don't have to cry anymore! :D  
  
Cabby1- I wouldn't exactly say Spot loves Misery. He cares about her a great deal but I'm not sure if he actually could say he 'loves' her. I hate reading cliffies but I like writing them :D  
  
Irish Rover -- *updates a few instants later* Sort of..hehe.I would never 'intentionally' hurt Spot, I luff him. *sigh* Oh well, hope this update is just as good as the others have been.  
  
Erin sailor ditz - Wow that is the awesomest compliment anyone has ever given me. I LOVE having things dedicated to me. I do understand what you mean with the cds, certain music needs to be listened to in certain cases. It enhances things sometimes. Dedications ROCK and I can't wait to read your story when it gets updated. Thank you, you're kick ass too :D  
  
JustDuck - Muahah no but I love that song, 'Finnegan's Wake'. I'm sure Misery could like it eventually. It's catchy as hell. Don't worry! Misery will NOT DIE. I couldn't kill her off, she rocks hard. You never know *hides notebook* there could be a sequel of sorts with some of the same characters. Yes Misery's brother's are assbandits and they and their horny jackals of thugs should be thrown into sacks and drowned. *nods*  
  
Chelsea - I read a hell of a lot, I guess that's where I get most of my vocabulary from. I love reading classical stories too like Dickens and that sort. Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights. But anywhoo. Race is definitely hot stuff and he is a hero in his own right. I'm glad that the fighting didn't seem fake, I've been in a few fights myself so I'd hope I know how to write 'em. Awww no crying. I love your story I think it rocks the casbah. :D WRITE MORE!! 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

"We came for the Finnegan whore," the words made my stomach clench into knots. The newsie who had stated their purpose was none other than Knuckles, and as I looked at his face, I realized he meant me harm. Spot smirked and one of his eyebrows arched sardonically.  
  
"Oh really? And what makes you think I'll give her to you." There was an angry murmur and Knuckles looked slightly at a loss before he gave Spot a feral grin.  
  
"Because of Cards, because she's a Finnegan, and because YOU'RE the leader. The leader, Spot. You have a duty to us." Spot's frown encompassed his entire face before he grabbed Knuckles by the throat and pulled his head down close to his lips.  
  
"Listen to me you fucking little weasel. I don't OWE you nothin'. Cards, yeah I owe him everything. You, no. You will not be harming innocent girls who didn't hurt nobody just because you hate her brother's. Now get the hell out of my face. All of you! This is MISERY. She didn't do nothin'".  
  
Someone began shoving their way through the crowd, and I saw Pokey roughly throwing boys down the hall towards the bunkroom, berating them the whole time. It was slightly humorous given her size in comparison to theirs, but she was enraged and managed to really whip some of them.  
  
Spot slammed the door and stalked around his room, running his hands through his ash-blonde hair furiously. Finally he dropped them and gave me a helpless look.  
"That's it; ya can't stay here no more." I must have looked at him like he had grown two heads after his heartfelt speech about treating me like an innocent for he roughly grabbed my arm. I winced, but he didn't lessen his grip.  
  
"Did I stutter? Get the hell up." I practically leapt out of bed, and cried out in pain. He was instantly by my side, embracing me. I shoved at his chest, but he tightened his arms around me.  
  
"Can't you see that I have to do this? I care about you Misery but these boys; they'll run me off right quick if I don't show them that I always have their best interests in heart. And I do, Misery that's the thing. This is my life, I can't throw it away."  
  
"But you'll throw me away without question, huh." I was surprised at how bitter my voice sounded muffled against his chest. I hadn't realized that I'd grown that attached to the Brooklyn leader. He looked down at me and I saw that look on his face that I had seen when he was rubbing my back.  
  
So this was the choice he had made. His newsies and leadership over me. He had never really cared enough about me to begin with. I would find out later that I was wrong, and that he did care about me, but this was too much for me to figure out.  
  
I felt tears staining my cheeks and sliding into the corners of my mouth. They were warm and salty and I angrily dashed them away. Spot tilted my chin up so that I was looking at him.  
  
"Carson a tha thu 'gal?"* I blinked up at him and tried to free myself once more.  
"I'm crying because I hate you, you miserable boy. Mo nair'ort!"* He quirked his mouth slightly and kissed me gently. Then he let me go and I straightened my clothing and wrenched open the door.  
  
I knew it wasn't safe for me to be in Brooklyn after the newsies had voiced their obvious displeasure. I was waiting to see how the Manhattan boys would react. As I stepped out of the room, I heard him utter something in Gaelic so low I almost missed it.  
  
"Tha mi duilich."* I was shocked that he would apologize, but slightly angry that he wouldn't say it in English. I held my head up and limped down the hallway to find the Manhattan kids.  
  
I found them downstairs talking in earnest, all crowded round the large, rickety table that took up most of the room. I was in shock that that they were awake, but one glance out the window told me that dawn wasn't too far off. Conversation immediately stopped when I entered the room. I didn't even look at their faces, just kept going towards the door. Someone grabbed my arm and spun me around.  
  
"Cha leig thu leas," I spat at Bourbon as she glared at me. She snorted with laughter at the Gaelic and looked at me expectantly.  
  
"I said, don't bother. I can tell when I'm not wanted."  
  
"Not wanted? Look at my face and tell me that you're not wanted." I looked at her red-rimmed eyes and felt instantly ashamed. These kids had been up all night waiting for me and getting into a brawl for me.  
  
"Look, we know that you're a Finnegan, and we understand why you didn't tell us. I wish that you HAD told us, but we understand why you didn't. That doesn't change that you're Misery. What did Spot say?" I was taken aback by Jack's short speech and felt my cheeks redden.  
  
"He chose Brooklyn, of course." I saw a faint glimmer in Racetrack's eyes as he stepped up to me and put his arm around my shoulder and led me towards the door. Jack threw a hand in the air and looked around.  
  
"That about says it all, let's get going." Silently we filed out of the Brooklyn Lodging House into the hustle and bustle of early morning traffic on the waterfront. I was even more shamed by the fact that none of the kids would sell today thanks to me. They were all too exhausted. I vowed to go back and give all the money I had to Kloppman to try to help cover at least some of their lodging expenses.  
  
Pistol and Bourbon shouldered Racetrack out of the way at one point and slung an arm each around my shoulders. I was shocked to see how well they were taking everything. I was still limping and with each step I gritted my teeth in pain. Pain and Young Joseph hadn't been very gentle.  
  
As we entered Manhattan, we ran into some of the younger newsies who had stayed behind hollering the headlines of that morning's paper. I about wet myself in excitement as I distinctly heard the news.  
  
"Read all about it! Finnegan Boys put in prison! Murder, bribery and theft amongst their charges! Judges and policemen jailed as well! Roosevelt ecstatic!" The newsies all clustered around the younger boys, who turned out to be Boots and Snipeshooter. We eagerly read the paper and cheered. As it turned out, not long after we left my brothers tied up at their hideout the coppers swarmed the place and took everyone who was there in.  
  
They had also busted down the doors of some very 'respectable' judges and policemen, one a captain. The clean-up had been over by the time we started on our way back to Manhattan and had somehow made the morning presses. I grinned and silently said a prayer of thanks for meeting a man such as Brian Denton. He must have had the story ready to go before the bust.  
  
"Lookit what it says here! 'Thanks to the aid of the Finnegan's own sister who recorded down key events we were able to put places and names to some murders that had remained unsolved until now. Our deepest and most heartfelt thanks go out to her.' That was said by one Sergeant O'Malley, of the Brooklyn police department." I felt numerous pairs of eyes on me and I shrugged.  
  
"Someone had to help stop them." Bourbon squeezed my shoulder and I could see her eyes fill with tears.  
  
"Cards is probably so happy right now," she said softly. I dropped my head, and felt many hands suddenly patting my back and shoulders. I was surrounded by the Manhattan newsies as they all told me in hushed voices that it wasn't my fault. I felt an ache begin in my chest.  
  
Why couldn't Spot see that then? I lifted my eyes to meet those of Racetrack's and he was looking at me with such concern that I instantly berated myself. Here standing in front of me was a boy who was obviously enamored and was sticking by my side. He had proven himself more than once and he deserved a chance. It wasn't as if I didn't have feelings for him either. I silently rested my head on his shoulder and whispered that I wanted to lie down. Racetrack instantly started pushing people out of the way and with an arm around me, brought me back to Duane Street, and the lodging house.  
  
Clearing off my bunk, he helped me get comfortable before perching on the edge. I smiled slightly as he lit a cigar and the familiar pungent odor permeated the small room. He apologetically smiled and held the cigar aside.  
  
"Botherin' ya?" I shook my head, no. He stuck it back into his mouth. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. I heard him shift and then the soft strains of music began to play as he absently blew on his harmonica. He played it softly and the music was soothing. I felt myself drift off into a restless sleep.  
  
When I awoke there was no one about and the light playing through the window told me that it was midday. I sat up and listlessly picked at the blanket covering me. I felt nothing but shame course through my veins. All I could feel was Pain and Young Joseph's hands touching me. I wasn't sure if anyone could ever touch me again and feel normal.  
  
I shuddered and tried to forget what had happened, but it stuck with me. I was almost positive that nothing would ever feel normal to me again so long as I lived. I felt dirty and worth little. I knew that what had happened hadn't been my fault, but it did little to assail me of my fears. I was furious and full of a rage that I couldn't do anything to expel.  
  
I sat up and propped myself against my pillow. Next to me on the little bedside table sat a deck of tattered playing cards that I knew were Race's, a wilted flower, a pile of cigarettes, and a lukewarm bottle of soda pop. My eyes filled with tears when I thought of the newsies gathering these things for me. I lit a cigarette and began to play solitaire, humming to myself. Maybe life wasn't going to be so bad after all.  
  
After growing tired of playing cards, I got out of bed and smoothed my wrinkled clothes out the best I could. Jauntily tilting my bowler on top of my head I gathered a handful of coins from underneath my mattress and winced slightly at the pain as I began to walk downstairs. Kloppman was sitting in a chair at the desk in the lobby, his feet crossed and resting on the top of the desk, his arms crossed behind his head. His eyes were closed and he snored softly. I smiled at the old man and plunked my change down. He awoke with a start and looked at me before softening the rugged exterior of his face with a half-smile.  
  
"You holding up okay?" he asked gruffly. When I nodded he nodded back and reaching behind the desk tossed me a biscuit which I began to gnaw on ravenously. Kloppman stirred the pile of coins on the desk and looked at me curiously.  
  
"It's to pay for some lodging for the kids since they probably didn't get much selling done today on account of me." I saw his gaze soften and looked away. He silently added it all up and logged it into the accounts book. I finished my biscuit and went outside to smoke a cigarette. The kids should be coming home soon from selling. I knew they would be exhausted and probably not much fun to be around. I considered taking a walk but that idea was halted when I saw a mob of kids nearing the lodging house.  
  
Jack, Race, Mush, and Kid Blink were carrying the still form of a boy. I squinted my eyes and exhaled sharply when I saw that it was Pie Eater. Pie wasn't a small boy nor was he weak. His face was covered in blood and he was moaning as they swept past me with him inside.  
  
I grabbed Race's sleeve and he swung about to face me, his eyes clouded with anger. Grasping my shoulders he drew me down the stairs and a little ways down the street so we could talk.  
  
"What's going on? What happened to Pie Eater?"  
"Brooklyn soaked him. They've declared war on Manhattan for as long as we keep you around." I gaped at him in shock. It felt like someone had socked me in the stomach while wearing brassknuckles.  
  
"Spot declared war? He did that?" Race spat furiously onto the ground and chomped on his cigar like a horse chewing on a bit. I felt lightheaded and sank to the ground, squatting with my hands resting on the sidewalk holding me up. This wasn't supposed to happen. Spot was supposed to be Manhattan's ally. Now thanks to me there was going to be lots of fighting and people I cared about were going to get hurt. The fact that a boy of Pie Eater's size had been set upon only showed how serious they were. I put my face into my hands and sat down on the ground hard.  
  
Now what was I going to do?  
  
* Gaelic Translations -  
  
Carson a tha thu gal? - Why are you crying?  
  
Mo nair` ort - Shame on you  
  
Tha ma duilich - I'm sorry  
  
Pokey7 - No, I haven't seen Mansfield Park or read it, I'll have to. I adore Jane Eyre I think that story is very romantic. I really like Dickens a lot too. Oh yes Misery's brothers get theirs. That's how it should always be.  
  
Luin - Yay new reviewer! *Dances happily* Here's more for you m'dear!  
  
NaughteeLady - Yay another new reviewer! *dances again* No, Spot and Misery are never going to..y'know.. *raises eyebrows* Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Netangel182 - Don't worry about it, I'm just happy that people like my story and let me know. Yes Spot's kind of too pretty not to have a soft side. I say that in the nicest way possible because I love Spot to death. But he does strike me as someone who would be tough on the outside and at least a little big soft on the inside.  
  
Nutters - Jack?! Screw Jack it's all about Spot and Racetrack! And yes I would believe it. I will email you and let you know that I have updated since you asked. Eep! I'm glad you like it. :D  
  
Jocelyn Padoga - No, Spot doesn't let them have her persay... And Race feels pretty strongly for Misery. And if you mean what was the Gaelic that Spot was saying in Chapter 12? Pretty much he was telling her to feel better and have a good sleep. I lost the translation somewhere and I can't remember it exactly.  
  
Irish Rover - MUAAAAAAAAHAHAHA.*rubs hands and cackles* Because I am cruel and evil! Don't forget.Oooh a puppy *runs after puppy*  
  
Sarah Kate - Yay another new reviewer! I'd dance but I'm tired now. *pants* I'm glad you like my story! You're going to give me a swelled ego..  
  
Brooke Lyn - Wow, thank you. I'm so glad to hear that you liked my story. I like the stories that suck you in so it's nice to hear that I can write 'em and make people feel emotions. That's what every writer tries to do.  
  
Just Duck -- *grabs switchblade* Let's teach those mens a lesson. *nods* I know they're not as long as they could be. I try and try and then I get caught up in other things and I just want to update the damn thing. But I'm glad you're still reading! *hugs*  
  
Chelsea - The Weeees---al...Right? Am I right? Getting into fights is nothing special, you get hurt. That's no fun. My friends beat on me all the time so I'm used to getting roughed up. My friend's boyfriend taught me how to punch years ago. It's all in how you hold your hands, and how quick you are. Hehe I know the whole 'violated' thing was kind of corny but aaaaah I dunno. Damnit. Spot in nothing but suspenders and pants. Yum. *drools* Yeah I liked the Racetrack curse thing. That made my day when I thought that up. God I'm a nerd.  
  
Cabby1 - Yes! Those disgusting guys will get what they deserve. You know what happens to men in prison. *turns green* Ew. I'm gross. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

A/N - Okay there has been some confusion as to Spot's actions in Chapter Thirteen and I would like to clear them up so people aren't so confused. Mmkay let's begin. The Brooklyn kids will take a long time to accept Misery even though she didn't personally do anything to them. It's like this; if you get into a bad spot with a person the chances of you running into their family members and being civil are slim to none. Maybe it's just me, but that's how I am. It's not fair, I know but I know a lot of people who are that way.  
  
Their friend Cards died not too long ago and they are still very much grieving for him and they want to take it out on anyone in anyway they possibly can. Misery just happens to be the unlucky person at this time. Spot cannot lose face to his gang without having to step down as a leader. He ultimately has to go with whatever the masses want although they do follow his orders, you can't hold back the tide.  
  
So there you have it. I hope that clears things up some? I'll try to explain more in this chapter *hopeful look* -- A/N  
  
Shout Outs  
  
BrkLnLady - I know, aren't cliffhangers annoying? *evil grin* Don't worry I won't stop updating this story, that POTC story is just a side project.  
  
Pokey7 - Yeah I figured you'd get a kick out of your character throwing people around. Heheh.Yeah I will have everything resolved at some point or another, don't you worry! I'm glad you saw where I was going with the Spot thing; it's not that he's trying to be a jackass; he just sort of has to be.  
  
Jocelyn Padoga - What now indeed? You'll have to read and find out!! :D  
  
Erinsailorditz -- *hands you a tissue* Yes you're allowed to cry. I'm sorry I made you cry though..*stands out of your way* You go show Brooklyn who's boss.  
  
Cabby1 - I hope I cleared up why Brooklyn doesn't like Misery. It's more of a what family she belongs to than who she is, but Brooklyn is too blind to pay attention to that right now. They're just out for blood, and they know that she ran with the Finnegan gang most of her life, albeit not because she had a choice. *scratches head* I think I just confused myself...  
  
Luin/BrkLnLady - Suspenders do rock!! I love boys who wear suspenders. Yes I do. Spot is being a jerk but he'll get better.  
  
NaughteeLady - Spot doesn't hate Misery, he's just doing what his newsies expect him to do. He can't really go against all of his boys or else they'll turn on him and that's his life being the leader, sooo he's ordering a 'war' on Manhattan. Don't worry; Spot's smarter than you think. The boys who called her the 'Finnegan whore' were Brooklyn newsies. They're still in Brooklyn. I hope this helps?  
  
BrooklynMyst - Yes cliffhangers do suck but I do so enjoy writing them. I originally wanted Misery and Spot to be together but they didn't really work that well to me so we'll see what happens. *wink*  
  
Chelsea - baaaaahahaha I love the South Park movie. That show is the bomb. You have the Monkees in your closet? That can't be very comfortable for them. Tension and triangles are rockin'. I like this one especially myself..Don't worry I have issues too *twitch*  
  
JustDuck - Brooklyn is mostly boys and as we all know boys are pigheaded. Brooklyn is also not over their friend's death and so they feel they must hurt anybody who was remotely involved. I think I also mentioned in a previous chapter somewhere down the line that they were itching for a fight and any little thing would do. Spot will have to figure out a way to lay the smack down and reassert himself as head dawg, without hurting Manhattan. Yes Race is definitely still a sweetheart. I actually have a book I use for translations, I bought in Nova Scotia. There's also a website that I use, I can email you the link.  
  
Sarah Kate - I don't know Gaelic per say I just use it in my stories. I have a Gaelic translation book that I use and I look it up online. Thank you for reading and reviewing!! I'm trying to hurry... :D  
  
Spot sat in a chair by his window, leaning back his feet resting on the sill. He smoked a cigarette in stony silence, listening to the sounds of the fishermen out on the docks and the shouts and hollers of his boys. It was early evening and the sun was setting, its reds, yellows, oranges and lavenders turning the East River into something that was almost beautiful to behold.  
  
He exhaled a cloud of bluish-black smoke and raised his eyes to the Heavens. He had no clue what he was going to do to make everything right. He had learned earlier that day that his boys had soaked Pie Eater, and then attacked Snitch and Dutchy. He knew Jack wouldn't take much more crap from the Brooklyn kids and no matter how scared Manhattan was of his boys they could get just as riled just as easy.  
  
Spot had tried to talk his boys down from all this nonsense but the blood lust had been upon them and Knuckles had coolly half-challenged him for his leadership position. Spot had seen in the eyes of most of the boys that they didn't want Knuckles as their leader, but he had been uneasy to see acceptance in some of the others gazes. So he had done what he always did in a situation like that. He had beaten the almighty Hell out of Knuckles.  
  
He hadn't stopped until Pokey screamed his name and Knuckles had spit up a mouthful of blood followed by a tooth and gurgled 'Uncle' up at him, his eyes wide and full of fear. Spot flexed his own knuckles gingerly and winced at the pain. They were swollen and he knew they would be black and blue for at least a week. But the pain was good to him somehow; it helped him from the numbness of sending Misery away.  
  
He had seen the betrayal in her eyes and the flash of hurt that had crossed her face when he had told her she couldn't stay there anymore. He remembered how it felt to kiss her and joke with her and he grimaced. It was better this way. She would never have been able to see him until all this shit got dealt with and the spark that existed would undoubtedly have faded away. Besides, Spot wasn't a one woman man. He lifted the corner of his mouth in a weak smile as he tried to convince himself of that.  
  
Spot dropped his cigarette into a brown glass bottle that perched on his window sill and listened to the embers hiss as they were extinguished by the dregs of beer. He watched the last wisps of smoke curl up out of the bottle and frowned in thought. There was no getting around his boys and their single-minded battle against anything Finnegan. He could make a stand, and they would follow, but not willingly. There was sure to be bad feelings and unless he was incredibly lucky, someone would try to usurp his leadership from him. Weaknesses were not tolerated in Brooklyn or in most street kids at that.  
  
Spot couldn't let his feelings for Misery get in the way of his day to day life in Brooklyn. He had to come up with a way to get his boys off of Manhattan's backs. He was fairly certain they wouldn't give her up just to remain allies with Brooklyn. He was almost sure that he had a way to solve everything but he didn't know if Misery would go for it. Ruefully he shook his head and chuckled. He was positive she wouldn't go for it, but she might if he could make her see how important it was.  
  
Standing up, he hitched his suspenders up over his shirt and slapped his cap onto his head. Tucking his cane into his belt loop he patted his rear pocket to make sure his slingshot was there, and lit another cigarette and placed it neatly into his mouth. Lighting it with a match he blew out the stub and exhaled. Time to go to Manhattan and relay his idea to Ms. Finnegan and see what she thought. A shadow crossed his face when he realized that Racetrack would definitely have a problem with it, but he brushed it off. Life wasn't fair, and Race certainly knew that. He'd get over it with time.  
  
I sat on Racetrack's bunk watching people bandage up Pie Eater, Snitch, and Dutchy. There were no poker games, none of the younger kids were shooting marbles in the corner, and there wasn't any laughter. People were talking in hushed whispers and most looked downtrodden. Getting into a scrape with Brooklyn was a big thing. Thankfully I heard many of the kids wondering what the big deal was in the first place. Hadn't Brooklyn read the papers? Didn't they know that my involvement with my brothers wasn't voluntary?  
  
Jack explained to them that it really didn't matter that I hadn't done anything, but that I was who I was. I felt hate curl into a rock in the pit of my stomach. I hated my brothers with a passion for all the hurt and trouble they caused me. For the first time in a week I truly felt like my nickname. I was a miserable person. I curled up resting my head on my knees and tried to blink tears away furiously.  
  
Ladybug and Rags were cuddled by my feet, recognizing the tension in the room but not really understanding it. They knew I was upset and they stuck close to me, worried expressions on their little, thin faces. Rags wore my bowler hat tilted askew on his head. I didn't have the energy to take it away from him, nor did I feel like it.  
  
"So what do we do Jack?" Mush sat astride a chair backwards, his brawny forearms resting on the top of it. Jack was sprawled on the floor, leaning against a bunk bed, Bourbon sitting on his right aimlessly throwing cards into a cap on the floor in front of her. Jack let out a breath, cigarette smoke trailing from his mouth.  
  
"Nothing we can do for now, Mush until Spot comes to his senses or makes his boys do the same. Nobody sells alone, and I know none of ya are cowards, but if you see any Brooklyn kids you hightail it to somewhere safe. No sense in getting bloodied if it can be avoided. You hear me?" His question encompassed all of us and we all said 'Yeah' in a muted tone.  
  
I looked up to see Jack's brown eyes studying me and he spoke up once again.  
  
"Misery isn't to go anywhere without at least one or two of you bigger guys with her either. That's asking for trouble, and we all know it." I held his gaze and tried to look thankful, but inside I felt like the world's biggest nuisance.  
  
The bed sunk down and creaked in protest as Racetrack sat by my side. He held out an apple and I remembered the carefree afternoon we had shared in the park right before I stole a bunch of cigarettes. I took it from him with murmured thanks and with my switchblade began carving it up to share with Rags and Ladybug. The two younger children beamed at me and ate the fruit happily, juice running down their chins.  
  
"I got that for you, ya know," Racetrack admonished me gently. I smiled up at him and he looked away flustered. I wondered how long it would be before he acted on his feelings for me. I knew the kiss we had shared had been spontaneous and he had acted merely on impulse. I wasn't sure if he would ever work up the courage to do it again. Still smiling I shook my head slightly. All wisecracks and swagger on the outside and so much uncertainty on the inside. He nudged me with his elbow and mock glowered at me.  
  
"You laughin' at me toots?" I held up my hands and widened my eyes feigning innocence.  
  
"Why of course not, sir. Why would I ever do that?" Racetrack snorted and we started to laugh, the sound echoing in the unusually subdued bunk room. It was as if that was the moment everyone had been waiting for. Chatter almost immediately sprang up, and the three injured boys were finally done being tended to by Meesh who went to the washroom to clean up. Racetrack winked at me and I was taken aback when he slid his arm around my shoulders.  
  
"Good, now everyone will start acting normal. Too damn strange it being that quiet in here." I nodded and at a loss of what to do, just sat with Racetrack on his bunk watching the rest of the kids begin snapping back from the day's events.  
  
Kid Blink and Mush talked Racetrack into starting a poker game, although I laughed at how much 'convincing' they needed to do. Listening to the boys slapping cards down onto the tabletop lulled me into a comfortable state that I hadn't seen in days. It abruptly was brought to a halt when one Spot Conlon sauntered into the room.  
  
Everything stopped, laughter, talking, Race even paused one of his hands held up in the air, in the act of throwing down a card. Jack met Spot's eyes and they hardened instantly. Spot held up his hands in a placating gesture.  
  
"I'm not here to start any trouble, Jack. I need to talk to Misery." Jack rose and circled around Spot warily, like a stray dog sniffing out an intruder. He finally stopped and stood an inch away from Spot's face. The two boys stood at a standstill for what seemed like an eternity before Jack jerked his head in my direction.  
  
"So talk to her and get your business done. It'll be lights out soon, and some of our boys need extra rest." His barbed tone wasn't missed by Brooklyn's leader who impassively swept his gaze across the room to where Snitch, Pie Eater, and Dutchy lay abed. I was already standing at that point, my knees slightly weak, and my jaw firm as I glared at Spot.  
  
Spot made his way towards me ignoring the glowers and muttered words as he strode through the bunk room. I glanced over at Racetrack and saw him sitting tensed a frown creasing his face. I held a hand up to him briefly, sending him a look that said I would be 'OK'. Spot took my elbow in his hand and with a lifting of his chin indicated that we should go out the window and up onto the roof to talk.  
  
The window was already cracked, it being a nice night outside. Plus with twenty odd boys who smoked cigars and cigarettes, fresh air was a necessity. Spot yanked the sash up the rest of the way and stood aside to let me climb out first. I did so and hooked my arm and leg around the ladder and clambered up onto the rooftop. Kloppman had a rope up there and I almost smiled when I saw some laundry flapping in the breeze.  
  
Night had come to the city, and stars were beginning to shine in the sky. I folded my arms and leaned up against the wall, waiting. Spot finally dropped down and we stood in silence, not saying anything for a few moments.  
  
"So what do you want?" I was surprised at how acidic my tone was. Spot didn't seem troubled by it. I could see the glint of his teeth as he smiled at me. Striking a match he lit a cigarette and handed it to me. I almost threw it away but the craving for nicotine made me inhale the smoke greedily.  
  
"I got a proposition for ya," he said. I blinked at him and was instantly curious. He coughed and spat a gob of spit onto the roof and I made a face. Boys, always making disgusting noises or producing wads of phlegm that would choke a giant.  
  
"My boys won't let me leave you be. They've decided that until their vengeance is satisfied that they've got it out for ya. I don't think they'd kill ya, but we don't want to take the chances of anything else unpleasant happening..again." I shuddered at his meaning and curled in on myself. I felt Spot's hands on my shoulders and I turned blindly into his arms. Realizing suddenly that I was furious with him I threw his hands off of me and stepped away.  
  
"What do you care, you let them hurt those boys because of me." Spot sighed and dropped his head a little bit.  
  
"It wasn't that I let them, Misery. They took it into their own hands. There's only so much I can do to control such a group of boys. Sure, they look to me to lead them and make the important decisions, but Cards was one of ours. They miss him and they don't know how to deal with it. Things will die down eventually and this is where my proposition kicks in." I felt a breeze stir the ends of my unbound hair and lift them away from my shoulders. I faced Spot and raised an eyebrow at him. I didn't know if he could see that or not, but he must have taken my silence as permission to continue.  
  
"I used to see this girl, before she moved to New Hampshire with her Aunt and Uncle. I get letters from her now and again; I guess she's really stuck on me." His tone briefly became smug and I made an impatient noise in my throat. He hurried on, taking a drag off of his cigarette.  
  
"My idea is this, why don't you lay low for awhile. You know, take a vacation. I can telegraph this girl and see what she says, but I bet for me, she'd let you stay with them. I guess her and her Aunt run a boarding house near the ocean, really nice part of the country. I figure if you go and stay out there for awhile, things can die down here and then when all's clear and I can make my boys listen to reason, I'll send for you." I think my mouth must have been touching my knees it was open so wide.  
  
"You want me to run away?" Spot made a frustrated sound and he grasped my shoulders firmly, shaking me slightly in the process.  
  
"No you idiot, I want you to get out of here for your own good, that's what I want. It's perfect, don't deny that. Don't you want a chance to get out of here? See some other part of the country, try something new? That's all any of us are looking for. It's not like you couldn't come back, I wouldn't leave you there."  
  
"I don't have any money," I said flatly turning to rest my hands on the low wall surrounding the rooftop. Spot moved to stand next to me as he chucked his cigarette down towards the sidewalk below making a sound of disappointment when he missed a man scurrying by.  
  
"I'll help you out," he stated quietly. I snorted and would have protested further, but my heart wasn't in it. Spot had planted the seed of an idea that might just work. It would hurt me to leave these kids and especially Racetrack, but if it stopped them from getting hurt then I would have no choice. I looked over to see Spot making his way towards the ladder.  
  
"I have to get back to Brooklyn. I'll put in the telegram tomorrow just in case, but I'll need an answer when I get a response from her. This could be the only way to stop this Misery, so please think about it."  
  
"I will, Spot." He nodded at my words and without saying anything else disappeared down the ladder. I was up on the rooftop for a long time after he left, staring up at the stars, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and erratic thoughts. There seemed to be no other way, but what good would running away do?  
  
"Maybe all the good in the world," I muttered as I started to make my own way back into the lodging house. Tomorrow was another day, and with it came waking up early to sell newspapers. I had a lot of thinking to do and I wouldn't be able to do it if I didn't get any sleep. Sighing, I shook my head and headed down. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

A/N - Whoa boy I have a feeling that these next couple of chapters are going to piss some of you guys off.*peeks out from under bed* Don't hurt me too much I promise that everything will work out in the end, but certain things have to happen first.  
  
Shout Outs!!  
  
BrkLnLady - I know it may seem like it, but it's not totally Spot's fault, more his newsies and how they are reacting. But then again how would YOU react to someone whose family had tormented you and killed one of your close friends? I'm sorry you're upset :/  
  
Chelsea - I would hope that most authors' write stories with the intent to touch their reader's personally. That's what makes a damn good story. I'm the same way with guys, I am not forward at all, unless I'm tipsy which isn't always a good thing. We'll see about the war thing, I have a couple of ideas kicking around in my deranged head.  
  
Pokey7 - I agree with the whole vacation thing. 'cept she'd be going to New Hampshire, not Maine. Although Maine is very nice, I love New Hampshire muchly.  
  
Netangel182 - Well I'm glad you like my story. I do agree that closure would be nice but there's still a few chapters coming before the end of the story. I'm not sure how many but I don't think I'll make it run on too much longer.  
  
Cabby1 - Don't worry Misery isn't going back to Spot. I can't say if she will in the end or not but as of right now, she's leaning towards Racetrack. I'll keep that in mind with your character, it could help out some aspects of my story. I'll email you and let you know what I decide, thank you for such free use of Meesh!  
  
Just Duck - Rescue Race from another funk aye? *glances at Race* *Race gives the thumbs up* If Misery leaves there are reasons which will get explained, but if she does leave she won't be gone forever.  
  
Jocelyn Padoga - I know it would seem cowardly if she was to leave but for someone without many choices it would seem like the right and easiest thing to do. Sometimes those are the moves that seem cowardly when they are in fact the smartest.  
  
Pmochizuki - Yay new reviewer! I think..*dances* Yeah most of my reviewers are rather angry shall we say at Spot but they should be mad at me, since it's how I'm portraying him, muahaha. Wow you think he's like the character in the movie? That's friggen awesome! I have plans for Spot; I can't say whether or not they will happen in this story or in another one. But he will definitely not end up alone.  
  
Nutters - Yeah I emailed ya! Hahaha.Yeah Spot's not making himself look good at all here. Poor bastard, he can't help it. You'll just have to wait and find out if Race and Misery get together and make sweet, sweet, lovin'. *snickers*  
  
Erinsailorditz - Don't worry if she leaves she will definitely come back. More than that I can't really say just yet. *shakes a fist at Brooklyn* It's funny how much of an ass I'm making Spot out to be when he's my favorite.  
  
My Dog Ate My Penname - Hehehe, awww. There are reasons to my insanity I PROMISE!! O_o  
  
Spot: She's lyin like a damn rug I tells ya  
  
Ahem..*smacks Spot* who d'you think she'll believe you or me? *tries to look sane*  
  
A/N -Netangel182 was my 100th reviewer! *glitter and balloons* Okay I'll shut up and start the story. -A/N  
  
The next day at the distribution center two new kids showed up. A brother and a sister by the looks of them. They had apparently been newsies in Queens but had been run out of the territory by the leader there, Fray when he had broken up with the sister. The boy was tall with very short brown hair and startling green eyes. He called himself Snap. His sister was tall as well with the same features although one of her eyes was blue. She went by the name of Mockery.  
  
I leaned up against the loading dock and crossed my arms. The boys were all quite taken with Mockery and I found it amusing. Most of the other girls did as well, all except for Nell who was fuming at the competition.  
  
"Are you a newsie or a streetwalker Nell?" Nell gaped at Bourbon and told her to watch her mouth, with clenched teeth. Flouncing off, Bourbon leaned close to my ear and told me that Nell had been a whore before becoming a newsie. I rolled my eyes and inside felt bad for her.  
  
When the window was opened and the boys were buying their papers, the girls hung back at the end of the line. A sad reality that no matter how nice the boys were in whatever borough, they still bought their papers first. Not even a strike could change the fact that it was relatively a man's world.  
  
I was so absorbed in thinking about the conversation I had had with Spot that I didn't even notice when it was my turn. Slapping a few coins onto the counter I acquired my papers and headed off. Racetrack caught up to me a few moments later to the amused grins of most of the boys to which he promptly made an obscene gesture.  
  
"Want some company?" He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I laughed. For once, it seemed he was going to be able to pull off his wise guy routine around me. Then we got away from the other kids down the street and he was all silence and downcast eyes. I poked his side playfully.  
  
"What's this, you're all quiet now? No fun I tell ya. I could have a better time hanging out with a bunch of nuns." Racetrack's mouth quirked up into a grin and he prodded me back with his stack of papers.  
  
"Shut your mouth bummer we got to sell these papes." I rolled my eyes. Today was going to be a 'rolling my eyes' kind of day I just knew it. Especially if I was selling with Racetrack. I loved being around the kid, but he could be exasperating with his sudden attitude changes when his company changed. There was a shout and our heads whipped towards the sound.  
  
A man wearing a bowler hat with a gray vest and nice pants was bearing down on us, a scowl on his face. Race's eyes widened slightly before he grabbed my hand and yanked me down the street at a dead run. I stumbled along behind him, confused. I didn't know what was going on, but I came to the conclusion as we dodged the crowd and other obstacles that he had short-changed the man when he sold him a paper.  
Luckily there really wasn't anyone around because it was fairly early. We managed to easily outdistance the man and I glanced back to see him stopped, doubled over, his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. We were passing through an intersection when I turned my head to yell at Race to stop, and my foot caught in a crack between cobblestones and twisted underneath me.  
  
I landed flat on my face, letting go of Race's hand to throw them in front of me. I lay on the street for a second before Race hollered that a carriage was coming and helped me to my feet, pulling me to the other side of the street. I gasped painfully and gritted my teeth.  
  
"Jesus, are you okay?" Race's dark brown eyes were worried and held no hint of fun like they had moments before. I ducked my head, my face flushing with embarrassment. What the hell was wrong with me that I couldn't manage to do anything with out getting hurt?  
  
"No, I'm not okay," I finally managed to stutter, avoiding his eyes.  
  
"It hurts like a bastard, I need to sit somewhere for awhile." Racetrack cast about with his eyes, looking over my head where I leaned against a building. He spotted an alleyway and glanced back at me. I shrugged my acceptance and he helped me hobble over to it. We sat in the alley on discarded crates, setting our papers down between us so that nobody could sneak up and run off with them.  
  
"Let me look at your ankle," Racetrack commanded. I protested but he threw me a look and I didn't say another word as he lifted my leg up into his lap and pushed my pant leg up past my ankle. He started unlacing my boot and when he was finished, gently took it off. He turned my ankle slightly in either direction and I yelped when he went to the left.  
  
"Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to see if it was broken. It looks like it's swelling up something horrible." I gingerly wiggled it myself and shook my head.  
  
"It ain't broken, just need to watch where I'm going." I figured he was done so I started to draw my foot away to put my boot back on but he held onto it firmly. I gave him a puzzled stare and almost blushed a shade of crimson when I saw him studying me intently.  
  
"Misery," he said his voice husky. I knew he wanted to kiss me then, but he seemed to be hesitating. I had had enough of that from him. Looking him squarely in the eye I scooted forward on the crate and wrapped my arms around his neck.  
  
"Do I have to do everything myself?" I joked, my voice sounding as hoarse as his. He shook his head and then he kissed me. I think I startled him by kissing him back. I truly believe that he thought I was hung up on Spot still. Granted, I had had feelings of confusion when it came to the two of them but something inside of me had always been rooting for Racetrack. And now, it seemed that something had made itself known.  
  
We broke apart, and I leaned my head against his shoulder for a second, embarrassed. Race tightened his grip around me and kissed the top of my head. I grinned into the scratchy fabric of his shirt. Once you got the kid started apparently he was hard pressed to stop.  
  
"I've been wanting to do that forever," he said finally. I pulled away and punched his shoulder.  
  
"What took you so long?" He looked at me seriously and shook his head. Pulling the stub of his cigar out of his vest pocket, he lit it while I busied myself with lighting a cigarette.  
  
"I didn't want to mess with something Spot had so obviously staked his claim on."  
  
"If you wanted me you should have done something about it regardless." He cocked his head and nodded slowly. A breeze found its way down into the alley and ruffled our hair.  
  
"You're right, Mis. The fact is though, that I do want ya and I am willing to fight Spot for ya. I just didn't want to intrude on something if it was making you happy." I blanched and looked at him. How could I not have seen what a guy this was right in front of my face? Then fear settled into the pit of my stomach. Spot had said he was going to send the telegram today. Now that I had started things going with Racetrack, I didn't want to leave. I also realized that there were other people here holding me back, tying me down.  
  
If I left I would miss Bourbon's somewhat motherly advice, Pistol's wit, Jack's father like qualities, and the rest of the Manhattan newsies. Christ I would even miss some of the Brooklyn ones, Riddle and Pokey being amongst the few. Racetrack noticed my silence and he blew a smoke ring.  
  
"I'm sorry if us kissing made things..different." He sounded apologetic and I grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked his head down.  
  
"Don't apologize, that's not what I'm thinking about." He gave me a small, pleased smile but then looked affronted.  
  
"What, you mean I wasn't any good?" I burst into peals of laughter and patted his cheek. He grinned at me and I felt a warm flush run through me. It was so good to finally be able to have both sides of Racetrack collide when he was around me. I wanted his fun, wisecracking side and his gentle shy side to mix not separate. I knew he'd always be the former with his friends, but I didn't care as long as I got both. Looking into his eyes I almost blurted out Spot's plan right then and there.  
  
I bit my lip and stopped myself at the last minute. For some reason, I didn't want Race to know that Spot was going to send me away. I really didn't think it would help make matters better. What needed to get dealt with was how I was going to be able to stay.  
  
"So what happens now?" His question was hesitant and he wasn't looking at me when he asked it. I sighed and slid my hand into his. His hands weren't that big, and they were rough from street life. I liked them like that.  
  
"With what, us?"  
  
"Yeah you dope," he said with a smile.  
  
"You cad!" I slapped his face gently and pretended to huff and puff while he laughed at me. He ended my mock sulking by capturing my mouth with his. That occupied us for a few moments.  
  
"Oof, I've created a monster," I exclaimed slapping my forehead. Race laughed and helped me stand up. My ankle didn't hurt half as bad so more. In all actuality I probably wouldn't have noticed any pain anyway. I was walking on air. God, how utterly unlike me to be so disgustingly romantic but I honestly couldn't help it.  
  
We spent the rest of our day selling papers while I thought of a way to stop Spot's boys from hurting the Manhattan boys. The only thing I could think of was for me to leave the lodging house. In doing so, I would lose a great deal of protection, and I didn't have anywhere to stay. Brooklyn would still menace us unless we stood up to them, or Spot put his foot down with a show of force.  
  
Racetrack gently steered me around a fruit cart I had been about to walk into. I snatched an apple as we walked by. He shook his head and cut down a side street with me in tow.  
  
"You're thinking again," he stated taking a bite out of the apple when I held it out to him. I nodded absently and he snickered.  
  
"I can tell because you almost walked into something. So easy to read." I narrowed my eyes and smirked. 'If he only knew' I thought inwardly. Nothing more was talked about until we reached the lodging house. I half expected Race to let go of my hand, but he held onto it firmly as we entered. The lobby was full of boys and girls' chattering animatedly about going to Medda's that night. Most of the talking stopped when they noticed us standing there.  
  
"What's this? Race and Misery? TOGETHER?" Mush crowed with laughter and slapped Blink on the back who grinned at Race and triumphantly held out his hand to Bourbon.  
  
"Pay up, I bet they'd be together by the end of the week." Bourbon scowled and handed over a few coins. A few other kids groaned and put coins into his hand as well. My face was beet red but Race wouldn't let go of my hand. None of the ribbing seemed to bother him; he just took it all in good stride and finally drew me closer to him by slinging an arm around my neck.  
  
"Yeah I got a girl," he said to Jack who was laughing loudly, "and YOU don't." Jack stopped laughing abruptly and flipped Race the bird. He and Sarah hadn't worked out too long after the strike. She wanted to settle down and although Jack yearned for a family he was in no way shape or form ready for that yet.  
  
Pistol sidled close to me and whispered into my ear that she was glad I had chosen Racetrack. Indeed, Race was beaming and for once his smile was genuine and not tinged with sarcasm. Bourbon socked me on the arm and I looked at her incredulously.  
  
"What was that for?"  
"Couldn't you have held out for a few more days? I would have won the bet then." I rolled my eyes at her.  
  
"Next time don't bet on your friend's love life like that," I retorted with a glower. Bourbon shrugged and slapped me on the back so hard that my front half lurched forward and I winced.  
  
"Good job kid, I knew you'd pick right." Then she jammed her hands into her trouser pockets and sauntered off whistling a merry tune. It was then that Jack announced that people better start getting ready to head to Medda's because the curtain rose in less than an hour. A stampede was made for the stairs and a throng of kids headed up.  
  
Racetrack bowed low and held out his arm to me like a gentleman. I pretended to curtsy and he smiled and spoke with a fake, absolutely horrid attempt at a British accent.  
  
"Shall we milady?"  
  
"Indeed we shall milord." And with that we followed the rest of the kids upstairs to get ready to go to the show. Little did we know how much of a trial the show was actually going to be. 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

As soon as we entered Medda's, I knew tonight was going to be more than tedious. There were factions of other newsie groups there, although tonight's performance wasn't going to be a large one. I knew Meesh was performing, and unfortunately that had drawn out a sizeable contingency of Brooklyn's. I was shocked at the audacity that the Brooklyn boys had to flaunt themselves on Manhattan's turf. Apparently Manhattan was just as taken aback.  
  
"Jack, what the Hell is this?" Blink hissed towards Jack, his usually good-natured face flushed a dull red with anger. Even Mush, loveable, friendly, soft-hearted Mush was frowning over at the table where ten or twelve Brooklyn newsies cavorted.  
  
"I'm sorry boys, but they DID pay to get in tonight," The soft, highly feminine accent made them all jump as Medda appeared at Cowboy's shoulder. She was dressed in pink fluff, and looked gorgeous. I elbowed Race in the gut as his eyes grew large at the sight of her. He snickered and rubbed his stomach while slinging his arm around my neck. Jack held up a hand and grinned slightly at Medda.  
  
"A payin' customer's a payin' customer. Something all of us boys know about, huh fellas? Don't worry about it, Medda; you have your own rights. This place is yours whether or not it's in Manhattan. Just make sure those boys behave themselves, or else they'll be answering to us." I felt a coil of fear tighten in my stomach at the firm nods of the other boys around us. Once again it seemed people were in danger of getting hurt, and it was all my fault.  
  
We took our normal seats at the tables that were, regrettably next to Brooklyn's. There were muffled threats and glares cast back and forth on both sides. I didn't want to look over, but felt someone boring holes into my back. When I turned my head, Spot was staring at me, his expression fierce and tense. I saw his eyes land on where Race had his arm about my waist and they flew back to my face, piercingly angry. I saw him mouth the word 'whore' at me before he turned his attention back to the stage.  
  
I stiffened, and Racetrack felt my body freeze underneath his hand. Thinking it was something that he had done, he pulled away apologizing immediately. I hastened to correct him, but didn't let slip what Spot had done. I didn't want the boys getting even more riled so soon. I caught Pokey's eye briefly and she gave me a hidden, sad smile before looking back at Jack, her thoughts written all over her face. With Brooklyn and Manhattan fighting she hadn't been able to spend any time with Jack, and I knew it must be eating her up inside.  
  
"Spot;" I looked up to see Jack standing at the head of the Brooklyn table, his eyes on Spot. Spot glanced at him, his blue eyes guarded before rising up slowly. Jack extended his hand and waited.  
  
"Truce. For Medda's sake, for tonight, let's truce." Spot looked at Jack so long that I thought maybe he hadn't even heard him before he clasped his own hand into Jack's. With a sidelong glance at me, he answered back, his voice raspy.  
  
"Truce for tonight Jacky-boy. We'll see how long after that it lasts." I felt my heart slide into the pit of my stomach. So he was angry with me now, a fact which would only prolong the arguing. Spot sat back down, the knuckles wrapped around his cane bone-white. My mouth was dry and felt like I had spent the afternoon actually eating the newspapers that had come back unsold.  
  
Racetrack's hand found its way to the back of my neck where he squeezed the sore muscles. I didn't realize how tense I was until he started doing that. I fixed my gaze onto the stage where the show had started, and instantly began downing pint after pint.  
  
"'Ey, slow down Misery," Race whispered into my ear as I light- headedly found myself giggling at a comic routine involving a dog chasing a man dressed as a policeman around on stage. I waved a hand at Racetrack and assured him that I was fine. He gave me a dubious look and a tight smile. He wasn't a fool; he knew I was going to get blindingly drunk tonight if it was the last thing I was going to do. I was uncomfortable, and like in most situations that involved me, alcohol, and being uncomfortable, I usually solved it in the only way that I knew how.  
  
Somewhere in the course of the night, the waitress began leaving me glasses of water instead of pints of ale. I was far gone enough that I didn't notice, just gulped down the water. I think that it saved me from being horribly sick, and possibly getting so drunk that I blacked out. The Manhattan newsies ended up leaving the theater before the show was over. I think at the time it was a gesture meant to show that they didn't want trouble, but I suppose Brooklyn took offense to their leaving early, somehow seeing it as an affront to Meesh, and their tentative truce.  
  
Halfway back to the lodging house, the group turned down a side alley to take a short cut only to find it blocked with Brooklyn newsies. Spot stood, his arms folded across his chest, his cane glittering in the moonlight. I winced as I recognized most of Brooklyn's biggest boys in the crowd. I saw Riddle; his eye's locked with Bourbon's standing off to one side, his hands hanging unclenched at his sides. Bourbon looked like she was about to witness someone kick a puppy.  
  
"What's this all about, Spot? I thought we had a truce?" Spot spat onto the cobblestones in front of Jack, his features screwed up tightly in anger.  
  
"I thought so too, Jacky-boy. But then what do I see? You and your newsies scootin' out of Medda's like someone had lit your asses on fire. Not a very polite thing to do, ya know." Jack snorted, and managed to look amused although I knew his thoughts were racing a mile a minute.  
  
"Spot, don't do this," my words were slightly slurred and I boldly stepped to the front. I saw more than a few of the Brooklyn newsies clench their fists at my appearance. Spot smiled coldly at me, and his eyes flickered to where Racetrack stood. Slowly, he sneered and pointed at me with his cane.  
  
"You don't even deserve a response," was all he said softly before with a swift motion of his cane, the Brooklyn boys charged. I found myself roughly shoved up against a wall, along with Bourbon, Pistol, and even Pokey. A few boys stood in front of us, supposedly to make sure nothing happened, but it wasn't long before they got dragged into the fight.  
  
"Screw this!" Bourbon yowled at me and Pistol before jumping onto the back of the nearest Brooklyn boy, and boxing his ears. Pistol and I shrugged, and leapt into the fray, Pokey hanging back. I could understand her hesitation. While the Manhattan girls had never really gotten close to the Brooklyn boys, Pokey was a Brooklyn newsie, who was also very close and friendly with every single Manhattan newsie. I saw her finally square her shoulders and throw a punch at Kid Blink who looked at her in astonishment and with an apologetic grin picked her up and tossed her into a pile of boxes. I noticed that she wisely stayed down after that.  
  
Pistol was busy trying to beat the living daylights out of Pick, the Brooklyn boy who had sprung Spot and I out of my brother's basement. He was in the meantime trying not to hurt her. Bourbon had been thrown off of the back of the Brooklyn newsie and was frantically dodging punches. Apparently this boy had no problems with hitting a girl. She was saved by a quick smack to the boy's temple that made him drop like a stone. When she looked up, nose bleeding to see who had come to her aid, all she saw was Riddle's back moving on to the next boy.  
  
Our boys were faring much better than we were. Not surprisingly Jack and Spot had matched off, while the rest just tried to beat up whoever was in their path. I myself went after Knuckles. There he stood, a shit-eating grin in front of his face, pounding a fist into the open palm of his other hand. I felt anger envelop me and I surged forward with a right hook that he easily dodged and followed up with a sharp jab to my kidney as I went past him. I hissed in pain and whirled around.  
  
"Come on girlie, show me whatcha got," he snarled. This time I connected, hearing the sickening thud of flesh meeting flesh when my hand hit him on the cheek. He winced and hit me in the stomach. I thought I was going to barf, but luckily he hadn't hit me that hard. His hands caught my shoulders and he shoved me to the ground and drew back a leg, ready to kick. I rolled away and was ready to jump up when I saw Racetrack tackle him and the two moved off, punching and hurling insults at each other. Someone grasped me by the shoulder and ripped me to my feet.  
  
I found myself staring into Spot's murderous eyes as he slammed me up against the alley wall. We stood there for a second, not saying anything, breathing heavily. His hair was in his face and he had blood running from a cut near his left eye. I looked about for Jack, but he was busy rescuing Mush from two Brooklyn kids.  
  
"I should have known you'd go for Racetrack," he spat at me. I narrowed my eyes and bared my teeth at him.  
  
"You didn't want me, and he did. He's wanted me all along; I was just too stupid to see past your fake charms to his real feelings."  
  
"My fake charms? You think everything I said or did was because I didn't like yah?"  
  
"Who knows what you'd say to get a girl into bed," I retorted sharply. Spot's face was incredulous as he gazed down at me, his grip tightening on my arms.  
  
"You're fucking crazy, Misery. Crazy and maybe a little too much trouble to be worth it. You can have Racetrack; just don't ever forget that I told ya you meant a lot to me."  
  
"Oh yeah and when was that?" I fought back tears and it was starting to feel like a losing battle as my eyes watered furiously and began to sting. Spot gave me a soft half-smile.  
  
"I just said it, didn't I?" And with that, he left just as suddenly as he'd appeared my by side. A piercing whistle sounded in the air, and everyone froze thinking that it was the bulls. But Spot stood on a crate, his hands in his mouth which he brought down once he realized he had everyone's attention.  
  
"That was a good fight, wasn't it boys?" The Brooklyn boys cheered and to everyone's immense surprise began clapping the Manhattan kids on the backs. Jack went so far as to stare at Spot, his mouth hanging open.  
  
"Ahhh that's just what we needed. See ya around kiddos." And with a disarming grin, and a wink, Spot and the Brooklyn newsies departed. We stood in silence for a few heartbeats until Kid Blink threw up his hands and roared in frustration.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"  
  
"I think we was bein' tested," Racetrack said thoughtfully lighting his cigar. He limped over to my side, and I hastily checked him over, biting my lip. He appeared alright, save for a bloody nose and a rapidly swelling eye.  
  
"TESTED HOW?" Blink's screaming was a little humorous and more than a few of us giggled nervously, our adrenaline rushes fading, the pain settling in. Jack snorted and lit a smoke of his own as he moved around, checking everyone out.  
  
"Testing us to see how tough we were, how strong our loyalties lay. Obviously know they know we're willing to fight back for what's ours so they know our boundaries. I don't think we'll be seeing any trouble from them for awhile." This lightened the mood, and immensely pleased with themselves, the boys set out for the lodging house, helping each other along and relating their battle stories.  
  
Us girls hung back, quiet and somewhat reserved. Riddle had slung Pokey over his shoulder when they had left, and we were worried that she was hurt badly. Bourbon hastened to say that she doubted Pokey was that hurt.  
  
"Pokey's a tough lil broad, she's fine I bet." Bourbon seemed disturbed about something, and I was more than a little unsettled about Spot's vehement declaration. Pistol limped along smiling like a loon. Apparently she'd had a lot of fun sparring with Pick. I shook my head as she yammered brightly about the fight. Kid Blink shook his head at her, having dropped back to make sure we were okay. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he heaved a sigh before grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder.  
  
"God those two are too much," Bourbon said with a smile. I watched in agreement as Pistol screamed for him to put her down and Blink shook his head with glee. I darted a glance at Bourbon's glum face.  
  
"What's the matter with you, you're starting to remind me of Skittery." Bourbon chuckled at this and shrugged, snagging my cigarette as I lit it and taking the first drag. Exhaling she gave it back and looked at me, her odd colored eyes gleaming in the moonlight.  
  
"I just realized I'm in love," she said with a disheartened tone. I burst out laughing and she punched me on the arm, her face a thundercloud.  
  
"That's NOT funny!" she hissed at me. I sobered up and put my hand on her shoulder.  
  
"You're acting like somebody died, not like you're in love."  
  
"Yeah, well. I feel like somebody died. I've never BEEN in love. It's scary as HELL. What if he doesn't like me back?" I snorted and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"D'you mean Riddle?" When she nodded, I grinned.  
  
"I don't think you have anything to worry about," I said. She looked at me doubtfully before stuffing her hands in her pockets and refusing to talk anymore about the situation.  
  
After that night, the days and nights went by turning into months. Brooklyn stayed mostly to themselves, healing up their grief over Cards and getting over their boiling anger. Soon they began to trickle back into Manhattan, one by one to visit friends and re-claim girls, or friendships that had grown lax.  
  
Spot never came to Manhattan though. In fact, I hadn't seen hide or tail of him since that night. Jack went to Brooklyn to see him, but whereas before, when Race would tag along, it was made quite clear that he wasn't wanted around by the King of Brooklyn. I began to think that I wouldn't see Spot again, until something happened that changed that very quickly....  
  
SHOUT OUTS!  
  
Shaug - I never thanked you for your review before, so I will now. Thanks! And I agree!  
  
Erinsailorditz -- *hangs head* I'm sorry I disappointed you. BUT! That just leaves room for me to write a whooooooole 'nother story about Spot and a DIFFERENT girl.*wink*  
  
JustDuck - Yeah it's not quite over. Almost, but not quite. I don't think it'll reach twenty chapters, but ya never know. This one was actually long, my creative juices were flowin'.  
  
Pokey7 - Hmmm yes this means Jack doesn't have a girlfriend....yet. *wiggles eyebrows*  
  
Chelsea - I'm glad you're enjoying it although it DOES seem to have quite the conflicting love/hate thing going on with it's many issues. But, that's me in a nutshell. Racetrack is too damn cute to ever be the bad guy. I don't think he'd be capable of it.  
  
NadaZimri - Yay new reviewer! Angst can be good sometimes, hehe.Yeah I decided to let Race be happy for once. For now. Ooooh..I'm evil. Thanks for reviewing I appreciate it! Oh lordy the Gaelic even made ME shiver and I was writin' the darn thing.  
  
Netangel182 - Hey I'm just glad you stuck around to BE the 100th reviewer! I'm glad people are enjoying this to have read so far. Thank you so much!  
  
My Dog Ate My Penname - Psh, I like your reviews, they're cute as hell. *pats Spot's head* Calm down lovey you'll be in the story soon enough.  
  
Kays14 - Thank you very much! Yay for another new reviewer!!  
  
Lanen1 - Whoo hooo ANOTHER new reviewer! I'd dance for you all, but you'd run away screaming because I just can't dance. *sobs* Thanks for reading my story! I'm glad you like it.  
  
*Misery stops typing and glances around*  
  
Misery : However, there are a few of you who have me on your alert list or favorite story list and you haven't reviewed. Don't be shy! Step up one and all, drinks all around!  
  
Racetrack : Wrong movie, dork  
  
*slaps Race upside the head*  
  
Misery : Don't get sassy with me or else I'll get Jack Sparrow to set you straight.  
  
*Race makes a face and holds up his hands*  
  
Okay enough of my dorkiness. Review people! Tell me how much you like it or hate it. 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

A/N-And hereafter the mean reviews will occur...*nods* Well until all is resolved. I wonder how many readers I'll lose.*gets out calculator* --A/N  
  
When something occurs to me in my life, and it is a moment of utmost importance, I like to call it an 'event'. Usually said 'event' makes the world seem to stop still, and I usually can't hear anything because of all the blood rushing to my head.  
  
I woke up a few months after running around Manhattan, perfectly happy, with Race and the rest of the newsies. It was early; the sky outside of one of the windows was dark. I knew that Kloppman would be up to rouse us from our beds and hard-earned slumber. I sat up and lit a cigarette, inhaling and exhaling slowly, enjoying the quiet.  
  
It was then that it hit me, the sour, twisting, burning bile rising in my throat. I hastily stumbled from my bed and barely made it to the wash room where I hugged a toilet bowl, retching out my stomach's contents. This went on for some time before I was quite empty. I threw my cigarette into the toilet and vowed to not smoke them again this early. Surely that's what had caused it.  
  
I heard Kloppman in the room, hollering and banging his broom stick against bunks. As I sidled out of the stall, I came face to face with a sleepy Racetrack, his undershirt unbuttoned and hanging open, suspenders hanging from his trousers at his side. His black hair was sticking up and I giggled before he leaned in for a kiss. Yelping, I sprang away from him, my mouth covering my hand.  
  
"No kissing! I have puke breath!" I proceeded to hang my head under the water pump and scrub my tongue with a finger. Racetrack looked at me like I was insane before a spark of worry hit his eyes.  
  
"Puking? Why were you puking?" I shrugged and lit a cigarette, already having forgotten my vow of earlier.  
  
"Must be somethin' I ate. You know, maybe I grabbed a rotten apple or somethin' yesterday." Race just looked at me for along moment before kissing my forehead and going about his morning routine. I skipped into the girl's room and yanked my black vest on. I usually just slept in long underwear and my shirt, but last night had been a late night and I had slept fully clothed. I sniffed my shirt a few times to make sure I didn't smell horrendous and told myself that I'd wash my clothes today.  
  
Bourbon stood by her bunk, an amused grin on her lean face. She and Riddle were cautiously still sniffing each other out as partners. Even though that night at the Brooklyn party when Race had caught Spot and I kissing, she had been almost inhaling Riddle's face, they had suddenly seemed to be wary of each other.  
  
"You always smell, Mis. I don't know why you think today'd be any different." I haughtily sniffed at her and exhaled a cloud of smoke.  
  
"My shit smells like roses, Bourbon. I don't know what you're talkin' about. If my shit smells so pretty then the rest of me is a freakin' rose garden." Bourbon guffawed and rolled her eyes at me. I snitched one of Peppermint's mints to suck on and it helped the horrible taste I had in my mouth.  
  
Pistol leapt onto my back and I almost pitched head-first down the stairs. Digging her heels into my sides she rode my back down the stairs and then flew off to charge Kid Blink. He saw her coming and ran out the front door screaming. I shook my head and twisted my back in a huge stretch. That Pistol was something else. I almost was starting to think that she was insane. I made my way outside to find her sitting on Blink's chest poking him in his armpits, giggling hysterically. Blink was looking half-mortified, half-amused as he tried to fend her off.  
  
"Misery, help me!" he pleaded, his one blue eye blinking up at me. I grinned and shook my head no.  
  
"WHY NO?" he hollered at me. Pistol cackled impishly and began playfully slapping his face.  
  
"Because this is funny to watch," I explained matter-of factly. Then I dove around the corner to get sick to my stomach again. I held onto the wall with one hand and with the other, braced my self against my knee as I bent over to retch. When I was done, I wiped off my mouth and looked up to see the heads of Pistol and Blink staring at me from around the corner of the building. I knew Pistol was on Blink's back because her head was above his.  
  
"Are you sick or somethin'?" Pistol slapped Blink upside the head.  
  
"Wonderful deduction, Sherlock, anythin' else you think you can uncover?" Blink gave her a mysterious look which was rather hard to do with one eye, and I saw them appear from around the building, him setting her down onto her feet gently.  
  
"Someday I think I'll figure out why you bug me so much," he said softly before hitting her chin with a clenched fist gently. I saw her eyes widen before she blushed furiously and stuck her tongue out at him. Clambering over to me, she helped me straighten up and flipped Blink the bird as she rushed me away down the street. We could hear his laughter grow faint as we ran.  
  
Collapsing against the iron gates of the Distribution yard, I gave her a curious look. Her face was the same shade of angry red as her hair and her own blue-gray eyes were snapping mad.  
  
"He shouldn't make fun of me like that," she ranted while I stood there, out of breath. She finally seemed to shake herself out her mood and gave me a long look. I looked back, my eyes wide with question.  
  
"How long you been pukin' like that eh?" I shrugged indifferently.  
  
"Today's the first day. I think I'm just catchin' a cold or somethin'." Pistol narrowed her eyes at me and her mouth thinned out into a flat smile. I saw a flash of sympathy enter her eyes before she turned away to kick at a loose cobblestone.  
  
"How old were you when yer mom died?" I was taken aback and I blinked at her in shock. Her tone was serious so I knew she wasn't asking me this out of plain curiosity. Uncomfortable, I shrugged again. Pistol lit a cigarette and handed me one before picking flecks of tobacco off of her tongue.  
  
"I'm only askin' because, well, I could be wrong but we'll have to wait and see. When was the last time you had your monthly curse?" I turned red and looked away before my heart sank into my stomach as rapidly as a stone disappearing underwater. The full meaning behind her questions sunk in. She was asking about when my mother died because she knew that I probably hadn't been instructed in certain things most women know about. True, when I got my first 'monthly curse' one of my brother's 'girlfriends' had been staying with us and had taken pity on me when she happened upon me sobbing in the bathroom. But that had been it, no one else had explained squat.  
  
But even I knew what it meant when you missed your monthly curse. Rapidly I started adding days up in my head and groaned. I was almost three months behind and I hadn't even noticed. Granted, a lack of food and other things can make you skip or be late, but not by almost three months. I sank down onto the sidewalk and dropped my head into my hands. The worst part about all of this was that it wasn't Race's kid. It was Georgie and Young Joseph Maguire's.  
  
"I gotta get out of here," I muttered thickly. Pushing myself up with my hands, I stumbled away from Pistol, into the street. I narrowly missed a carriage and I heard Pistol holler something at me. I felt an arm encircle my waist, and yank me across the street.  
  
"Jesus Misery, watch where you're going. So I'm right, aren't I? Shit." Pistol and I walked towards the park where we sat on a bench, side by side. All we did for a few hours was smoke cigarettes and not say a word, my predicament rolling around in our heads.  
  
"You could always get rid of it," Pistol began. "I know some whores down in Hells Kitchen who know some doctors who will do that cheap." I mutely shook my head. I was surprised she even mentioned it, knowing that we were both raised strictly Catholic. But sometimes that didn't hold over into your adult years when you had brought yourself up for so long as a child.  
  
"So you won't get rid of it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because it's not the baby's fault if that IS what's wrong with me." I felt a hand grip my shoulder and squeeze gently as a voice said in my ear softly, and with emotion;  
  
"It wasn't your fault either, Mis." I buried my face into the other girl's shoulder and sobbed like an infant. She wrapped her thin arms around me and we sat that way for awhile as well. Finally, my eyes swollen and red, I pulled away.  
  
"I can't stay here, I can't face Race. Why would he want to be with a girl who's going to have another man's child?"  
  
"Because he's crazy about you?" was Pistol's scornful reply. I shook my head at her and she heaved her shoulders upwards in a shrug. I knew that this was different. I would never completely forget about what had happened, but with Race's help and the other's caring about me, there had been no in your face evidence of that horrible night, until now. And why should Race want me if I was crazy enough to keep a baby that was conceived in such an awful way?  
  
"I need to talk to Spot," I said suddenly. Pistol looked at me like I had flipped my lid.  
  
"You can't go to Brooklyn, that's not a good idea. Especially to see Spot." Most of the Brooklyn newsies were indifferent around me; some had grown friendly with me again. They had realized their mistake and the tensions had ceased. I had finally thought that everything was back to normal and I could be happy for once.  
  
"Back when things were...bad here. Spot was going to send me away, to live with a friend. I think I'm going to take him up on that offer." Pistol's eyes bugged out of her head.  
  
"WHAT? YOU CAN'T!"  
  
Calmly I stood up and brushed off the seat of my pants. If leaving Race for awhile until I was ready to tell him about the baby was what I had to do to protect his emotions and mine, then that's what I was going to do. Pistol stood up as well, her arms folded across her chest.  
  
"So you're running away," she stated flatly.  
  
"Yeah, much like you did to Kid Blink when he confronted you," I shot back. Two spots of color appeared high on her cheekbones and I knew I had scored a direct hit. Spitting onto the ground, she gave me one last furious look.  
  
"Maybe you should leave, Misery. Someone who doesn't have the balls to know when a person loves them and would be willing to face anything alongside them doesn't deserve that person. Maybe you didn't care about Racetrack at all."  
  
"I'm doing this BECAUSE I care about him," I spat. She gave me an incredulous look.  
  
"He'll hate my baby every time he looks at it. I know he will."  
  
"And you won't?" I shook my head.  
  
"No because it's a part of me."  
  
"Exactly why he wouldn't hate it either," Pistol spun around on her heel and stalked away leaving me to shake my head in disagreement.  
  
"This is for the best! You'll see," I whispered the last part more to myself than her retreating back. Squaring my shoulders, I headed towards Brooklyn after checking my pockets for my brassknuckles and switchblade. I had business to attend to.  
  
SHOUT OUTS!  
  
BrkLnLady- Yes Misery is actin' like a ho. But she isn't one, I swear to God. Spot is just jealous pretty much.  
  
Fox - Whoa I don't remember getting your review in an email, but thank you! I'm glad you liked it I really am.  
  
My Dog ate my penname -- *smacks Spot* That bitch. It's okay, you give me whatever sort of reviews you want to. Psh.. *Spot sniffles*  
  
*melts* Oh okay then you arse....*grumbles* Heheh.and you ARE cute!  
  
Pokey7-Oh you WILL see Jack..Just wait. But yeah, I thought that stuff with Kid Blink was funny too. I'm glad you liked it. Heh I'm just glad that you don't mind me using your character and that I'm writing her okay. Love does suck most of the times, but sometimes it's okay. And don't worry, I'm not going to hurt Race..Too much.Nope.  
  
JamieBell-Hey! I'm glad you liked it! I reviewed your story, I hope you continue to read mine and like it  
  
Erinsailorditz-- *does a chicken dance* How's that? I'm glad you weren't disappointed!!  
  
Chelsea-Viking mythology is actually quite interesting if you can get into it. And yes, Spot is an arse...  
  
Spot: HEY!  
  
Misery: Hey I'm sorry man, you are. The public has spoken.  
  
But he will make it up somehow. If not in this story, then in my next one.  
  
Netangel182-Hey! I'm glad you aren't bored with this story yet! Thank you for reviewing again.  
  
Kays14-I can't promise anything! I'm glad you are reading this though, I hope you continue to read it!  
  
Pmochizuki-I agree that Spot deserves his chance with Misery but I think that MAYBE he might have a better option in another story I'm going to do. Just maybe..  
  
Shaug-Yes! Such a choice ISN'T fair. I'm glad you like it!  
  
JustDuck-Hahaha..whoa there cowboy..You'are all riled, but I'm glad. You get a lot of the tensions that are building or have come about, and I think that's awesome. Don't worry, Spot gets his.  
  
Jocelyn Padoga-- *frowns* Why are you crying? I'm sorry you're sad I wish there was something I could do for you. Being sad sucks, I know. So does most everyone. But still here's an updation for you..*offers up story on a silver platter*  
  
NadaZimri-Yes, yes we do have alter egos. Mine is currently a mixture of people, but mostly Pie Eater for some reason. Muaaaaaahaha..*singsongs evily* I knooooow who she's going to eeeend up wiiiiiiiiiith... 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

As I shuffled over the Brooklyn Bridge, my hands stuffed into my pockets, my head whirled with too many thoughts. Maybe Pistol was right, maybe I should stay. But then again, Jack would have to ask me to leave the lodging house. It was an unspoken law that if a girl were to be a newsie, she couldn't get pregnant and continue to do so. People wouldn't pay for papers from whores, and unmarried pregnant girls were seen as promiscuous.  
  
Sighing, I dug a cigarette out of my vest pocket and lit it after sticking it in my mouth. I felt my stomach twist, but willed it to stop. I needed the nicotine after my fight with Pistol. I knew, somewhere in my confused mind that Race would indeed, probably stick by me. But the fear that he wouldn't overwhelmed more than anything else.  
  
I had seen plenty of girls tell guys that they were with child, and have the guy flee out of terror of responsibility. It was rare, especially on the street level to have a guy take care of what was his. And with the ages of the newsies being under twenty, that percentage was even higher. I berated myself for thinking so lowly of Race. I knew he was a kind, considerate person and he had done nothing but right by me.  
  
However, he WAS only seventeen....Or was it eighteen? I shook my head and exhaled a cloud of smoke. Either way, he was only one of the two. Why should I expect him to give up whatever future he could possibly have by shackling himself with a broad who was knocked up? No, my best course of action was to see Spot. Spot, unlike most of the other borough leaders cared about his newsies, but also was able to step back and view the situation from an emotionless point of view. He had a fiery temper but he could keep it in check to look at the advantages and disadvantages of any situation whereas any of the other leaders would let their feelings take hold and dictate their responses.  
  
I had seen Spot lose his temper plenty of times. He was quick to throw a punch, or a harsh word. But when it came to large problems of the utmost importance he would lock himself in his room with a bunch of cigarettes and come out hours later with the best way to handle it ready to go.  
  
I tossed my smoke over the Bridge's railing and inhaled as the East River's scent smacked me in the face. It didn't take long to enter Spot's territory once over the Bridge. In truth, he considered all of Brooklyn his territory although I knew quite a few older hoodlums who would violently disagree. Two small newsies were hollering headlines on a corner near the docks. One was Monkey, who I had met a few months earlier, and the other was Loon.  
  
Loon warily greeted me, the bruises on his face had finally healed and he looked like a normal little boy again. Normal besides the way he constantly was on the alert for danger and his body cringed away from you if you made a sudden movement or spoke too loudly. I had seen animals react this way after being beaten constantly and it seemed Loon was no exception.  
  
"Hey, Loon," I said spitting into my hand and holding it out towards him. He did the same, all the while neatly capturing Monkey's collar as the little boy darted out towards the street.  
  
"I'm looking for the Great, Almighty Conlon. Have you seen him?" A ghost of a smile appeared on Loon's lips for a brief instant before he turned serious again and jerked his chin towards the docks.  
  
"We got some new kids who need some training. He's down at the docks teachin' 'em how to sling." I nodded and after saying good-bye and laughing at Monkey's repeated attempts to leave Loon behind, I made my way down a side street littered with trash and barrels that opened up into a bustling array of docks crowded with busy fishermen loading and unloading boats with crates of fish. One of the smaller docks was Spot's domain, and it was just as busy as the rest of the harbor.  
  
Winter was fast approaching, so none of the boys were swimming. Some smoked and lounged on crates while others were gathered around Spot who had his slingshot out and was patiently explaining how to aim to a pair of boys who didn't look like they were older than eight.  
  
Pokey was perched on a crate with the few other female Brooklyn newsies. I hadn't met any of them, except in passing. They were all hard- faced and lean. Pokey was always the most approachable looking in any event. She caught my eye as I slunk down the dock towards the group. A smile beamed across her face as she bounded in my direction.  
  
I had noticed that Pokey grew happier and happier each time I saw her. It didn't take me long to figure out that Jack spent most of his free time in Brooklyn. Spot was notorious for not wanting the female newsies out of Brooklyn by themselves for too long and it was hard for the girls to find willing boys without agendas of their own to accompany them to Manhattan or any of the other boroughs.  
  
"Misery!" she squealed, hugging me to her. Yeah she was definitely happier; I chuckled and hugged her back. The newsies eyed me with interest for a moment or two, then the buzz of conversation started back up. I looked over Pokey's shoulder and my eyes locked with two freezing blue ones. I darted my gaze away and met Riddle's, as he shifted in his semi- leaning state up against a pillar.  
  
If Pokey looked happier, Riddle looked more miserable every time I saw him. He grew sullen and angry. Even now, though his eyes shown with welcome towards me, his shaggy black hair flopping into one dark brown eye, his mouth was twisted in a bitter smile.  
  
Riddle nodded at me, and my stomach went sour as I wished for him and Bourbon to settle their score and be happy. Or maybe it was because of the baby. That jolted me out of my thoughts and I glanced back in Spot's direction. He stood on the edge of the dock, his head cocked to one side and back so that he was looking down his nose at me, his blue eyes narrowed into slits. His mouth was set in a firm line, and he had his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
He wore a dark blue shirt and a rust-colored vest, new items of clothing that I hadn't seen before. He still wore his ratty dark brown pants and his cane was slung through a belt-loop. Adjusting the gray cabby hat he wore, he jerked his chin at the boys around us.  
  
"Beat it," he said simply his voice harsh to my ears. The girls vanished first, followed by the boys, their curious gazes held in check at the smoldering fury their leader was exuding. Spot waited for them to go, but held my eyes with his own as he lit a cigarette with a furious flick of his wrist. Turning his back on me suddenly, he started walking to the end of the dock.  
  
I listened to the dull thudding of his feet on the wooden planks and I felt my chin lift and my shoulder's square. I wasn't about to let him treat me like an asshole without a fight. Making sure my footsteps fell just as surely as his, I stalked down the dock behind him until we reached a jumble of crates. Spot's throne of crates was further up towards the entrance where he could see all who entered and left his domain. This was just a ramshackle pile that had probably been left here for years.  
  
Spot stood at the edge of the dock, a sudden breeze ruffling the back of his shirt as he looked out over the River. I gingerly sat down on a crate, half-afraid that it would break under my weight, but it was solid. We sat like that for some time, the only movement coming from birds on the wing overhead or the puffs of exhaled cigarette smoke that drifted away from Spot.  
  
Suddenly I saw Spot's shoulder's slump and he turned sharply on his heel to face me. His eyes were unreadable, and quite dark with the light of the sun behind him. The morning had dawned with a pale and watery sun but had gained some warmth during my trip from Manhattan to Brooklyn. I squinted up at him and waited.  
  
"What do you want Misery?" His voice sounded defeated, tired. I felt a pinpoint of shame hit my chest but I steadied my shaking hands on my knees and tried not to vomit. Spot must have realized something was wrong, for he knelt down next to me and grabbed a hold of my shoulder with a strong hand.  
  
"What's the mattah?" His genuine expression of concern affected me even more strongly. I gulped in deep breaths of air and hung my head until I could talk. Even then, when I spoke my voice was high pitched and breathy like a little girl's.  
  
"I have a problem," I stuttered before digging into my vest for a cigarette as franticly as a drowning man searches for air. Lighting it finally with shaking fingers, I took a deep drag and exhaled, closing my eyes in pleasure. When I opened them Spot was still kneeling at my side, his face drawn in worry.  
  
"Look, this isn't easy for me to say, but I'm hoping you'll help me. If not that you care about me, because I don't blame you if you don't, then for the fact that you were there when it happened and you got hurt as much as I did." This time Spot's eyes flashed confusion before I took another breath and went on.  
  
"I'm going to have a baby, Spot." I heard a thump and looked down to see Spot sprawled on his behind on the dock, a shocked look painted across his lean face. He blinked rapidly at me before waving his hands mutely and trying to talk although no words came out. It would have been funny if not for the situation.  
  
"What do you need me to do?" His quiet question made my heart lurch and I looked him directly in his sapphire eyes with a calm that belied my roiling insides.  
  
"I need you to help me leave New York." Spot hung his head briefly before exhaling loudly and slowly and raising his gaze so that it met mine. I had almost never seen such a fierce look of determination on someone's face unless you forgot about the brief flashes that Race would throw at me before he told me how he felt.  
  
"Okay Misery," he said softly. "I'll help you"  
  
A/N – I know this sort of short and I'm sorry I haven't updated this in a little while. I've been busy and had writer's block. But the next updation won't be far away! – A/N  
  
Nada Zimri – You can go ahead and beat up the Maguire brother's, it's okay with me! Thanks, I hope nobody stops reading this.  
  
NaughteeLady- No, no, no. Young Joseph is Georgie Maguire's brother, not Misery's. Her brother's are Murphy and Jamie.  
  
Chelsea – Always go with your gut instinct..hehe..no pun intended. You were right! I'm glad you're excited for more of my story, that's awesome to hear.  
  
Jaws- Aww that's so sweet of you! I hope you and your friend are doing better and I wish you the best.  
  
Just Duck – Yay a bear hug! I know you don't like her leaving, but everything gets resolved in the end, I promise. Maybe not totally, but on Misery and Race's end it does.  
  
Kays14 – Sorry I can't make any promises! Thanks for reading!  
  
Pokey7 – I'm glad I got to use your character, it was fun to write! Thank you so much, and I'm glad you like the story.  
  
BrkLnLady- Are transition chapters good? *scratches head*  
  
Jamie Bell—And you better update your story soon young lady! I want to know what happens next. *shakes finger* Yes, running never does any good, but she'll figure that out eventually.  
  
Taps 1899 – I'm glad you like my story, here's more so you don't hurt Race!  
  
My dog ate my penname – Yeppers that's a pretty good twist if I say so myself. *Beams* So...does this mean no chicken dance? *pouts* 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

A/N – Yay FFnet is working again! *does a happy dance* -- A/N  
  
Pistol McGovern was not the sort of girl who could usually keep secrets. She knew deep down in her heart that the right thing to do was go find Race, and let him know that Misery was planning on running. Something wouldn't let her do that, and she also knew that it was her loyalty to the female race and her own knowledge that she was running from something that she wasn't strong enough to admit to as well.  
  
Trudging down the street, her red hair hanging in her face, she frowned and her scowl only deepened when she heard the familiar voice of her best friend in the whole world hail her. Not stopping, she quickly turned down an alleyway and would have gotten away when she felt firm yet gentle hands rest on her shoulders.  
  
"Pistol what the Hell are you doing?" She averted her eyes from Kid Blink's and muttered something non-committal although her heart beat hard against her chest at the way he was looking at her. Something in between annoyance and tenderness shown in his one good eye as he crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"I'm walking what does it look like Sherlock?" Kid Blink narrowed his eye at her and this time his grimace matched her own.  
  
"No, you're avoiding me." Pistol felt her chest squeeze painfully as he cupped her chin in a callused hand and lifted it so that she was looking at him. Glowering up at him he burst into laughter at her face and shook his head.  
  
"God you're the best gal a guy could ever have," he guffawed, holding his sides. Pistol froze, and jerked her chin out of his hand.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped. He froze as well and looked at her uncertainly. Scuffing a boot into the dirt of the alleyway he was now the one to avoid her gaze.  
  
"Never mind, Pistol. Just forget it." Pistol lit a cigarette and quickly threw the match away so he wouldn't see her shaking hand. Blowing smoke forcibly out of her nostrils she jabbed her cigarette towards his face.  
  
"No, I won't forget it and you can damn well talk to me again when you feel like explaining yourself." With that, she spun on one heel and stalked out of the alleyway ignoring his feeble call for her to stop and wait up. Fuming, she walked towards the Square where she hoped to find some of the younger newsies. Her head was in such a whirl, she forgot all about Misery until much, much later.  
  
At the time that Pistol was contemplating her feelings for Kid Blink, I sat in a small Italian restaurant called Luigi's where Spot apparently came quite a bit and watched him put away a heaping plate of spaghetti like he was eating the last meal of his life. Looking up with strands of spaghetti hanging out of his mouth he sucked them up and grinned at me.  
  
"You should see the look on yer face," he laughed teasingly. I shook my head.  
  
"You should see the sauce all over yours." I chuckled and for the first time that day felt the semblance of happiness. Spot's face softened and I looked alarmed for he gave me a bitter grin and shook his own head.  
  
"Don't worry Mis; I'm not going to try to win you away from Race again." I traced a pattern on the tablecloth and looked away from him. He loudly began slurping up his spaghetti once more and when he was done, Luigi himself came from the kitchen and Spot thanked him and tipped him. The short, portly Italian man thanked Spot profusely and I hid a smile behind my hand.  
  
Spot hiked his cane up from where it had been leaning against the chair and offered me his arm, like a perfect gentleman.  
  
"Let's go find a place to discuss your plans," he said lighting a smoke and handing it to me before lighting one for himself. I slapped my bowler hat onto my head and nodded as we quickly went down the street and towards the Brooklyn Lodging House.  
  
Once reaching the Lodging House, Spot told Riddle a terse warning that we weren't to be disturbed. More than one of the kids watched us with great interest as we trooped upstairs to Spot's bedroom. I was surprised to see the cot still in the corner. Spot shrugged.  
  
"Loon still has nightmares. I let the kid sleep in here because it make's him feel better." Seeing my gentle smile, Spot rolled his eyes and waved a hand at me.  
  
"Don't get all sappy, dame. Remember it ain't what you want anymore." I walked up behind Spot and put my hands on his shoulders and rested my chin in the crook of his neck. I could feel him tense his muscles and he turned so that his cheek was flat against my forehead.  
  
"Spot you're going to make some girl very, very happy one day," I whispered. I felt his shoulder's droop and he kissed my forehead before carefully sliding away from me.  
  
"I took the liberty of telegramming Marty again for ya. You know the broad in New Hampshire. She said they'll be expecting ya in a few days' time." I stared at him blankly.  
  
"When did you do that?" He grinned at me and sat down in a chair by a small table before resting his feet up on the open windowsill.  
  
"When we stopped at the post office and you waited outside to smoke." I felt my cheeks redden and I sniffed at him while he actually giggled at me. Flopping down onto Loon's cot, I rested my hands loosely in between my legs and sighed.  
  
"So when do I leave?" Spot exhaled a few smoke rings and gave me a sad look.  
  
"Tomorrow morning, on the six o'clock train, get all your good-byes done tonight." I shook my head mutely before saying in a husky voice;  
  
"Nobody can know I'm leaving. I don't want Race to try to stop me; it's really for his own good. And for everyone else's." Spot's eyes hardened and he shook his head briefly before flicking his cigarette out the window.  
  
"At least write him a letter Misery. The kid's going to be beside himself with worry more than pissed off at you. Then he's going to come after me, you do realize this? If anyone tells him that I was the last person you were with, he's going to naturally assume that I know where you are and I won't tell him. Not unless you want me to." I shook my head and he sighed.  
  
I left Brooklyn late in the afternoon, with Riddle walking me back to Manhattan. He had combed his shaggy hair and he walked with a very determined air. I was amused, and saddened that I might not be around to see what the outcome of his going after Bourbon would be.  
  
Spot had told me that he would meet me at the train station in Manhattan at 5:30 sharp. I was relieved, because the newsies would all be walking their selling routes by then. I knew that I had to find a way to break the news to Racetrack and I thought for a quick second to maybe break up with him in a public manner so that he would be angry at me and not look for me after I left.  
  
Deciding that was the best tactic, I hurried my pace until we reached the lodging house. By then it was evening and Riddle quickly left me to find Bourbon. I made my way to Racetrack who wound an arm around my waist and laid his head against my middle. He was sitting on a battered couch in the lobby with Jack, David, and a troubled looking Kid Blink.  
  
"How's it going dollface? I haven't seen you all day." I took a deep breath and tried to still my shivering. He looked up at me concerned.  
  
"Race, we need to talk." Worry flashed through his dark brown eyes and he stood up, guiding me outside onto the sidewalk. Lighting a cigar he leaned up against the brick building. It was growing dark and I could barely see his face.  
  
"Listen, I've been thinking. I don't want to sell newspapers anymore and I know that you still do. It would really be best if I found someone who was a little more ambitious, more family oriented. Someone who wanted to move up in the world a little bit more quickly." I could see Race's eyes fairly bugging out of his head. He moved towards me, but I brought my hands up fast.  
  
"It's not that you're not a nice kid, cuz you are Race. But I'm tired of being a street rat, and I want something better." The harshness of his voice startled me and I felt hurt course through my veins.  
  
"I don't know why I wasted my time on you then, Misery. You never said anything about this before. Is that what I was to you all along? A waste of your precious time and sanity while you were looking for someone better?"  
  
'Oh God Race' I thought as I felt tears gather in the corner's of my eyes, 'I am so sorry'.  
  
"You're damn right kid." I shot back just as brusquely. He spat onto the sidewalk near my feet and without another word stomped back into the lodging house. I fled into the alleyway next to the side of the building and hooking my arm around the fire escape ladder, I monkeyed my way up to the roof, where I bitterly wept into my shaking hands.  
  
I spent the rest of the night up there, rocking back and forth angry that no one had come looking for me, but furious with myself for deliberately hurting Racetrack. I must have slept, for a seagull woke me as it cried over head. The sun was coming up and I hastily slunk down the fire escape and into the lodging house. Wrapping up my meager possessions I paused at Race's bunk and watched him sleep for a few moments before leaning over and kissing him softly on the lips. He tasted like peppermint and cigars and I felt a sob well up in my throat.  
  
"Someday you'll understand Race, someday." And with that I left the lodging house for good, my sack of clothes and other memento's slung over my narrow shoulder. I paused on the sidewalk and let the first rays of the dawning sun shine onto my face as I lit a cigarette. Then I headed towards the railroad tracks, Spot, and my new life.  
  
A/N – Just another brief note, this ISN'T the end. There are still a few more chapters, I'd say two maybe three. Depends on how long I want to make them. – A/N  
  
SHOUT OUTS!!  
  
Racetaps – Yay a new reviewer! Yeah I think Misery belongs with Race as well. Here's another update I hope you like it.  
  
NadaZimri – Hey thanks for sending your friend to read my POTC fic, I appreciate that. I'm so glad FFnet is fixed, I was getting upset and all.  
  
Pokey7 – Yeah she does go away, but everything will get resolved, I promise.  
  
Pyro – Yay a Newsie Camp kid! Thank you so much, that's awesome. And here's an update! :D  
  
JamieBell – Whoo hooo I can't wait for an update from you. I know how it is to be wicked busy. Spot's a jerk, but he's a loveable jerk and he's just jealous of Racetrack and Misery which is why he acts the way he does. But deep down he's a good guy.  
  
NaughteeLady – Hey whoever said I wasn't crazy? *twitch* Thanks for reviewing! ;D  
  
My dog ate my penname – Nah she didn't go back to Spot, she just knows Spot will help her out. Hehe Spitball, I like that name that's a good one. Yay for the chicken dance!  
  
Chelsea – It's warm enough for sandals! Even though it snowed her today, boo. But it will soon be warm enough every day for sandals. Yippee!  
  
Kays14 – Race will be alright. I promise lots of rainbows and sunshine in the end. Maybe. Muahaha..  
  
JustDuck – Love yah too Duck! Spot says thanks for the back pat but he would have gone for a butt grab as well. *shakes head at Spot* I got my muses back so I should be updating more frequently. *hugs JustDuck*  
  
Brooklyn Myst – Spot does know that, he's just in denial. And there's a good reason, but Misery's mostly just afraid of losing Race and everyone else she cares about.  
  
Jaws – You're welcome, you're easy to be nice to! Don't worry, Race does save the day eventually. 


	20. Chapter Twenty

A/N – I'm kind of sad that this is going to be coming to an end soon... --A/N  
  
"Caitlin? Are you alright?" My head snapped around at the sound of name, my real name. I had been daydreaming again and I blushed furiously. Martha 'Marty' McShea gave me a rueful grin and winked. She had been nothing like I had expected while I worried about what this girl and her family would think of me once I reached New Hampshire.  
  
The train ride had been long, but not too arduous. I had found myself seated next to a rather ample Italian woman who reminded me of Racetrack and who had also exclaimed over me calling me 'skin and bones' and had fed me the whole trip. Not that I had minded that.  
  
"Were you thinking about your fella again?" Marty's voice was teasing and friendly and I finally smiled back at her. She hadn't known too many of the Manhattan newsies, for she hadn't been a newsgirl when she lived in Brooklyn. She knew who Racetrack was however and she found it amusing that I was so hung up over the short gambler.  
  
"Sort of," I replied hesitantly as we cleared dishes off of the long table in the dining room of the inn that Marty's family ran. The guests had all departed from breakfast, off to sight see or in some cases, work. Some of the men were fishermen visiting from other ports.  
  
In truth, I had been thinking about my last morning in New York City and how much I longed to go home and make things right. Spot had met me at the station and had slipped a dollar or two into my pocket before embracing me and planting a soft kiss on my forehead. I knew he was upset, he wouldn't meet my eyes.  
  
When I boarded the train, I had yelled out good-bye, but I wasn't sure that he had heard me. He had been standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his head cocked to one side, and he had been staring at the ground. That was the last time I saw him, before the train chugged its way out of the station.  
  
I felt a jab as someone poked my side and came back to reality once more to find Marty blatantly grinning at me. She didn't strike me as someone that Spot would date, she was rather on the tall side, and her hair was a mousy brown. But her violet eyes were captivating, and she had a beautiful smile.  
  
"Sorry," I muttered again as I hefted up a platter of dirty dishes and made my way to the kitchen. I knocked my belly into the side of the swinging door and made an 'oomph' sound. Setting the dishes down into the huge wash-tub sink I made a face as I cupped my hands over my belly. I was well into my eighth month and I had a feeling that this baby wasn't going to wait around much longer. I felt huge, and bloated, and I hated it.  
  
I let out a huge sigh as I stroked my aching back and bent over to wash the dishes. After the dishes were done, Marty, her mother, and I would begin washing the laundry. Then it would be time to make lunch for the boarders and then more dishes, cleaning and then dinner. I shook my head and desperately tried to remember why I had wanted to give up my newsie life.  
  
"Race!" a hand slapped Race's back and he jolted out of his thoughts before glaring at the person who had surprised him. Kid Blink laughed and held up his hands in a defensive motion before Racetrack relaxed and chomped on his cigar.  
  
"S'mattah?" Race inclined his head and didn't answer. It had been eight months since Misery had runaway. Eight long, lonely months. He missed her still to this day, with a fierce longing that made it impossible for him to see other girls. The other boys had tried, there was no denying that. But no girl could measure up to his Misery. He snorted mirthlessly. 'His misery' indeed for he was miserable without her.  
  
Not a day went by that he went and pestered Spot in Brooklyn for news from her. Everyone knew that she must have gone to see him before she took off. Racetrack had a sinking feeling that Spot knew exactly where Misery was and he wasn't telling him for some reason.  
  
Kid Blink perched beside him on the bench in Central Park. Not much had changed in the eight months. A few of the newsies had gone on to different jobs. Skittery was a bouncer in a bar. Dutchy worked down on the docks in Brooklyn, and Specs had become a teacher of all things. Jack was being groomed by Kloppman to take over the lodging house, and David was working as a lawyer's assistant. Kid Blink, Mush and Race all had un- official leadership over the house in Jack's place. Race was flirting with the idea of becoming a bookie.  
  
Spot Conlon was nowhere near ready to step down, but when he did rumors were floating around that Riddle was going to be next in command. This suited Bourbon well, the pair finally having gotten together soon after Misery left.  
  
Jack was officially with Pokey now, and it was whispered that he was completely smitten with her. As for the rest, well they had girls or boys who came and went. Racetrack knew that Mockery was interested in him, but he didn't have the heart to pursue anything when it already belonged to someone else.  
  
Just then Blink stiffened, and Race looked over to see Pistol approaching them. Racetrack held back a chuckle. Everyone could tell that the two were head over heels for each other but were fighting it tooth and nail. Pistol gave Blink a sidelong look before jerking her chin at Racetrack.  
  
"We gotta talk Race, in private." Hurt flashed across Blink's face before he silently got up and stalked away. Race watched him go before eyeing Pistol askance.  
  
"He's going to be mighty sore at you for that," he said tapping ash off of the end of his cigar. Pistol shrugged but let a slow smile stretch across her narrow face.  
  
"He'll get over it, I'm sure." Race motioned towards the bench with an ink-stained hand and she sat down, hooking her ankles together and putting her hands behind her head, leaning back. They didn't talk before Pistol finally put her elbows onto her knees and clasped her hands together in front of her.  
  
"Look I've done something horrible and I think you need to know about." Race instantly knew that this had to do with Misery. He waited impatiently for Pistol to get started again. His hands clenched his knees and he ground his teeth together only stopping so that he didn't ruin his cigar.  
  
"Misery told me why she was leaving, and she went to go see Spot before she left. My guess is he helped her find a place to run off to and knows exactly where she is." Race felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest.  
  
"Was it me Pistol? Did she leave 'cuz of me?" His quiet question almost brought tears to Pistol's eyes as she looked at him earnestly and put a hand over his.  
  
"Race you mean the world to me, I only kept it from yah because she didn't want yah to know. That night with the Maguire brothers.... Race she got knocked up. She didn't want you to know about it because she thought you deserved better than some dame who had gotten herself preggers from a couple of scum bags. She wanted to keep the kid and didn't think you'd stay with her. So she did what she thought was best for you so you wouldn't get hurt."  
  
Racetrack felt tears welling up in the corners of his eyes before he angrily dashed them away. His chest felt tight suddenly and he realized although he was crying, that he was happy, almost hysterically so. So she hadn't left because she didn't love him! He felt like jumping up and clicking his heels together.  
  
"That little idiot," he muttered which made Pistol laugh. He nervously rose and began pacing back and forth.  
  
"I have to find her Pistol; I have to bring her home. She belongs here, with us the newsies. And, and....and with me." The look of determination on Racetrack's face made Pistol feel the happiest that she had in days. Keeping Misery's secret inside of her had twisted into a black cloud and as she lit a cigarette and exhaled, she could see the cloud slip free and disappear.  
  
"I'm going to see Conlon, right now. And he's GOING to tell me where she is." Pistol stood up and brushed off the seat of her pants.  
  
"No reason for you to go alone, Raceypants. I want to help yah and Conlon won't soak ya completely if there's a girl present." Race snorted with laughter before raising an eyebrow at her.  
  
"Let's go then"  
  
"PUSH!"  
  
"AHH YOU GO ON AND PUSH GODDAMNIT!!" Laughter echoed in the small room as Marty snickered behind a hand. The midwife looked down at me with amusement in her iron gray eyes before bending down so that we were nose to nose.  
  
"I know it hurts love, but I can see the head. Ye must push and get the bairn out of ye now. Gather up all your strength. Here we go. One, two, three, PUSH!" I pushed and panted and felt like I was being torn in two, but it paid off. With a grunt and sob, my son Joshua Anthony Patrick Finnegan was born wailing his head off.  
  
I weakly raised my head to inspect my son as they laid him across my chest wrapped in a faded yellow blanket. He hollered and waved his fists around mightily and I made a face.  
  
"He's bright red! What's that all about?" The midwife and Marty leaned up against one another and laughed till they cried. I sniffed haughtily and felt love well up in my chest. I cupped Joshua's head in my hand and tenderly ran a finger over his translucent eyelids. He instantly stopped crying and his mouth pursed and he smacked his lips together. Dreamily I cooed to him before I fell into an exhausted sleep.  
  
"I ain't gonna ask ya again Conlon, where the hell is Misery?!" Spot Conlon sat in his small room with a look on his face that would freeze fire as Racetrack ranted and raved in front of him. Conlon eyed Pistol who was definitely smirking as she leaned against the closed door.  
  
"She told me not to tell anyone especially you, Higgins," Spot spat viciously. Racetrack felt his temper beginning to go, a dangerous thing when Spot was concerned. If he swung at Spot he could expect to get not only a beating from the Brooklyn leader, but also each one of his boys. Both Racetrack and Spot were becoming grown men and their bodies were beginning to show it. Widened shoulders and ropy muscles became more lethal than slingshots and marbles.  
  
"Spot, for the last time, please. I'm begging you. I love her Spot; I want to bring her home. Where she belongs. Can't you understand that?" Spot stood up suddenly and brought his face close to Race's. The short Italian was a smidgen shorter than him, but he wasn't backing down. His eyes shown with the sincerity that rang in his voice. For the first time in eight months, Spot's smile leaked onto his face, relaxing his hardened features. Race was brought to mind of a time when Misery had told him about how Spot's smile changed his face and this was no exception.  
  
"You love her Higgins? Honestly and truly love her?" Racetrack nodded and Spot sighed before going over to his table and rifling through its contents. Coming up with a piece of paper he thrust it at Racetrack.  
  
"Get out of here and bring her home then," the Brooklyn leader said before none-to gently shoving both him and Pistol out of his room and securing the door behind them. Pistol and Race hovered around the paper reverently. There was an address for an inn in New Hampshire. Pistol paused to look at it, but Race grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.  
  
"Come on Pistol, we got some preparing to do. I have to go get her and I need to get ready." Pistol's gleeful laughter rang out in the dingy hallway of the Brooklyn Lodging House as they barreled down the stairs and out into the warm spring air. Misery was coming home, and Racetrack was going to be the one to go get her.  
  
SHOUT OUTS!  
  
Erinsailorditz -- *raises hand* I like Spot too. Lots. Shhh don't let him know. I'm glad you're excited, I'm happy with the way this story is coming out. Too bad it's almost done.  
  
BrkLnLady – Uh oh. Heck hmm? I'm sorry you want to cry but that means I'm doing a good job! *bright smile* Hmm okay here's a happy chapter.  
  
Chelsea – Tests and school and all that garbage stink but its necessary. Heh I don't want it to end either but it will. One more chapter! Then it's on to my Spot story. Yessir. I love the rain too, much more than the sun.  
  
Kays14 – Is this soon enough?! Heheh... Yes she went away but now Race is going to go bring her home. Wearing his Superman cape.  
  
JustDuck – Yep I know about the malnutrition thing but no, she's err was very much pregnant. Don't cry... *nudges Spot*  
  
Spot: Here Duckie have a Kleenex. *hugs Duck and tries to grab her butt*  
  
SPOT!  
  
Spot: *grins evilly and points at self* Brooklyn. 'Sides she started it with the smooching. *wiggles eyebrows*  
  
*slaps forehead* Oh Lord what am I ever going to do with you.  
  
NadaZimri – I know it was sad but Race is Race and he is going to save the day! I know I was so happy when they fixed FFnet. Rambling is okay I don't mind rambling.  
  
Pyro – Heheh...Neurotic is okay by me. I know the feeling!  
  
Jaws – Awww I don't think you're easy to be mean to so that means you're easy to be nice to! But yeah everyone deserves nice things said about them and I don't mind it ;D Good lord there better not be a connection between your bad days and my updating because that would be creepy. At least you say my updating makes you feel better so I won't feel as bad.  
  
BrooklynMyst – I'm glad you get why she didn't tell him, I wasn't sure if I was explaining that clearly enough.  
  
My dog ate my penname – Heheh...that's funny the ankle grabbing thing. *tries to run away and falls on face* Ouch. Don't worry, she's coming home. Maybe. :D  
  
The Good Girl – Yay new reviewer!! I'm glad you like it even though I don't know if you've gotten this far. But that's okay.  
  
JamieBell – YOU UPDATED!! *tackles* Yay I was so happy. Pistol is mad at Blink because they both like each other but neither one wants to admit it and she thinks he 'started' it first. She's a regular tomboy so she's not used to feeling that about guys. I think I'm going to write a story about them so all would get explained. 


	21. Chapter TwentyOneThe End

A/N – Here it is....*big shuddering sigh* the last chapter. I know it's so quick, but I got into a wicked writing mood, and well here it is. For all those interested, I will be writing a sort of sequel with Spot as the main character and then a story with Kid Blink and Pistol. (I've already started both of these stories) Also I have to squeeze a Newsie Camp story in there somewhere, Heh. Busy, busy, busy! – A/N  
  
Spot: Misery you better warn them...*threatening look*  
  
Warn them about what? *total innocence*  
  
Spot: You KNOW what I mean. *takes out slingshot and aims it at Misery's butt* I'll bean ya, I ain't afraid.  
  
*grabs butt* ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! There is total CHEESEY SAPPYNESS ahead. You have been warned.  
  
Spot: *puts away slingshot and smirks while flexing an arm* Heh, I still got it.  
  
Yeah you got it alright...*grumbles* Okay on with the story.  
  
I was jolted awake by my newborn son's screaming and I groggily fell off of my bed and landed in a twisted pile of limbs and nightgown onto the floor. Picking myself up as gently as possible, and trying not to holler out swears as loud as Joshua was crying, I made my way to his cradle and hefted him onto my shoulder.  
  
He grabbed a hank of my hair, yanked on it, and screamed directly into my ear. I think this is when I started to cry and didn't even hear the knocking on the door. When I heard laughter, some of it distinctly male sounding, I whirled around, surprise and tears showing on my face as I hiccupped.  
  
Marty stood in the doorway, holding her stomach with one arm and supporting herself with the doorjamb using the other. She laughed in deep whoops but it couldn't disguise the voice of the person standing next to her.  
  
There in all his newsie glory stood Racetrack Higgins, a beaming smile on his face and an unlit cigar dangling out of the side of his mouth. Franticly looking around, I realized it was morning, and that I was standing in front of Race wearing only a nightgown. Untangling myself from my son's grip I thrust him at Marty and flung my quilt around my shoulders. Race raised a dark eyebrow and winked at me.  
  
"Why so modest? It ain't like we don't know each other." I scowled and shooed him out while I dressed, shutting the door in his face. Why was he here? How did he find me? My mind was humming as fast as my heart was slapping against my chest. I fumbled with the buttons on the bodice of my dress and slung an apron around my skirt. Mrs. McShea didn't tolerate girls dressing like boys in her inn. So I had had to spend some of Spot's money and an advance in my pay on some dresses and skirts.  
  
Flinging open the door, I found Race bending over Marty admiring my son. That very image sent my heart straight into my throat where I almost choked on it. Race must have heard me for he glanced up at me and a serious expression showed on his once round now lean face.  
  
"Misery we need to talk," he began. Marty gave me a quizzical look then cocked her head in understanding.  
  
"Misery would be the newsie name?" I nodded, and she set Joshua into my arms where he gurgled up at me and drooled. I kissed his nose and adjusted the folds of his blanket around him.  
  
"I'll tell Mama that you have company. I think she'll understand," Marty said before sidling away. Race took my elbow and together we walked out of the inn and into the yard. You could smell the ocean, that's how close we were. But the yard of the inn was full of trees and had a low stone wall lazily sloping around its boundaries. We perched on the wall and let the sun sink into our bones. Birds were chirping and bees were humming.  
  
Race snorted and looked around wide-eyed. I knew he must be in a totally different world right now and I smiled, remembering my same exact reaction all those months ago when I had first arrived. I felt him take my hand into his and I looked away suddenly ashamed.  
  
"What's the matter?" His voice was soft and when I dared to look at him, his eyes were too. I flushed with shame and hung my head. Shifting Joshua around, I didn't speak. Race finally sighed and put a finger underneath my chin.  
  
"When you left, I thought it was because of me, not because you were pregnant. Misery, I know I'm young and that this may not be the right timing or thing to say, but I...I love you and no matter what happens to you I'll be there to help you through it. You shouldn't have run away from me."  
  
"I know Race but I was so scared and I just...thought it was the right thing to do. I didn't think you'd want to help me raise a bastard." My bitter chuckle seemed to pain him for he shook his head at me.  
  
"Misery I think you are one of the most beautiful, caring, amusing, kind people out there. Anything that has to do with you I want a part of. And if you have a child, then I want to help you with your child." I must have been looking at him like he had two heads. Men did not say this sort of thing. Men didn't come and just sweep you off your feet like this and say all the perfect, wonderful things he was saying.  
  
"Do you mean it?" I whispered hesitantly. Race threw back his head and laughed, causing Joshua to jerk in my arms slightly. I drank in the sight of him laughing, the sun shining on his black hair, his goofy grin, his worn and patched checkered vest and cabby hat. Everything that made him Racetrack suddenly fascinated me. And I knew then that I felt the same way he did about me.  
  
"Of course I mean it Mis," he said to me with a grin before his expression faded to one of seriousness.  
  
"I don't ever want you to leave me again," he said firmly. I opened my mouth to say something, but he shook his head shortly and captured my hand in his own and looked at me earnestly.  
  
"Promise me that you'll stay with me and not run away again? Come home Misery. We all miss you, and we want you to come home, and nobody wants that more than I do." I felt something inside me that I hadn't felt in a long time. It had only been with the newsies that I had felt wanted, and a part of a family. God, how I missed that feeling. And God how I had missed Racetrack.  
  
Beaming at him, I nodded my head and he grabbed me in a tight embrace before remembering Joshua and hastily let me go. Joshua however, had fallen asleep and was drowsily smacking his lips. Racetrack leaned over and kissed me on the lips.  
  
"Does this mean you're my girl again?" I nodded once more, not able to trust myself to squeak out my words. His smile was like a ray of sunlight and it brought out my own smile. He gently took Joshua from me and cradled him awkwardly in his arms. Joshua squirmed slightly but soon sleep re-took him and he lay silently.  
  
"If you're my girl then he's my boy." Race gave me a steady, intent look.  
  
"And I promise you both that I'll look after you like you deserve." I sniffed and blinked my suddenly burning eyes.  
  
"God, what did I do to deserve you Race?" He smiled, showing off his slightly crooked side-teeth and winked a dark eye at me.  
  
"You were you Misery. That's what you did to deserve me." I snorted and put my head on his shoulder. We sat like that for what seemed an eternity. It wasn't until dusk and Mrs. McShea hollering for me to come inside and get off my lazy ass that we joined the real world again.  
  
Later that night when I had put Joshua down in a basket next to Mrs. McShea while she rocked in her chair and mended undergarments, Race and I took a walk down to the ocean. It was dark, but the moon was full and it illuminated the path that cut through the small copse of trees in the backyard and led to the beach beyond. You could see where sand started to mix with the dirt and grass on the well-trodden path just before you heard waves crashing against the shore.  
  
Race whistled lowly under his breath and took the cigar out of his mouth long enough to gape at the moonlit ocean. Since we were away from any large cities, the sky was scattered with stars. I pointed out to Race what Marty had shown me on my first night there.  
  
"That's the Big Dipper, there's Orion's Belt," I nattered on hardly taking a breath until Race slid an arm around my shoulders and we just stood in silence. In the eerie glow of the moonlight I could see his face and he looked totally relaxed.  
  
"I had to fight Spot to make him tell me where you were," he suddenly said. I did a double-take and looked at him wide-eyed.  
  
"You mean actually fight him?" Race grinned and his teeth flashed white. I led him over to a jumble of rocks while he told me the story. I let out a breath, relieved. Race was no coward but he wasn't a strong fist fighter either. Spot hadn't gotten his reputation or standing by being peaceful.  
  
"Are ya looking forward to going home?" I tilted my head and looked out at the sea. I had grown accustomed to the slower pace of life out here and the nature. But a part of me missed the day to day struggle of not knowing if your next day was going to be as safe as the last. I was still a kid, and with my own kid or not, I would never willingly want to give up any sort of excitement. It just wasn't in my soul.  
  
"Yah know? I am looking forward to it. There are so many people I miss and..."  
  
"Like Spot," Race interrupted me grimly. I smiled gently and put my arm around his neck. He was sitting a little below me on a rock that put his head about shoulder high. I squeezed his head playfully and he laughed.  
  
"Yeah I miss Spot. But he's a dear friend to me and no more Race. I hope you can learn to understand that and believe me." Race didn't say anything for a long time and I began to grow somewhat tense.  
  
"I understand, Misery. It's the same thing with Meesh and me." I nodded and lifted a hand up.  
  
"Exactly, I'm so glad Racetrack." He leaned against me and we sat for awhile longer before heading back to the house. After a chat with Mrs. McShea, Racetrack helped me pack up my things before retiring to an empty room. It was early, but as newsies we were used to going to bed early. Besides, tomorrow I had a whole new journey to make. I was going home.  
  
"Are you sure he said they'd be here?"  
  
"Quit shoving!"  
  
"Bumlets get OFF of my foot before I belt ya!"  
  
"Damnit Jack where ARE they?!"  
  
"He said they'd be here in three day's time, and if she doesn't come he'll be here, so quit your belly achin' Blink."  
  
"Pistol..."  
  
"Yoah Mothah..."  
  
"WILL ALL OF YOU SHUT UP?"  
  
"LOOK! THERE'S RACETRACK!" Many pairs of eyes swung around to where Mush stood on a bench at the train station, pointing. Racetrack stood, hands in his pockets, looking glum. Jack nudged Skittery and cackled.  
  
"Lookit that, he looks more pissed than you normally do." Skittery gave a trademarked sneer and slunk away. Pokey jabbed at Jack and hissed at him to shut up, for no one had spied Misery.  
  
"Where is she? She didn't come? How could she NOT come?" Pistol was beside herself, stomping back and forth as Racetrack trotted over, his head hanging down. Blink put his hand out and made as if to touch Pistol, but she bared her teeth and charged at Racetrack. Right before she reached him, Pistol looked beyond his shoulder and saw a form huddled down out of sight behind another bench. Changing direction, she ran full-throttle towards the figure.  
  
"MISERY!" Race lifted his head finally and the rest of the group let out a collective sigh at his smiling face before gathering around him, slapping his back in congratulations. Bourbon, Pokey, Pistol, and Meesh all ran to Misery and hugged her. An indignant squawk came from a bundle in her arms and all but one of the girls backed away in shock.  
  
"This is Joshua. Joshua, this is Auntie Pokey, Auntie Bourbon, Auntie Meesh, and Auntie Pistol." Joshua opened one eye enough to show that he had my hazel eyes and then closed it again, apparently uninterested. All the girls except Pistol looked at me knowingly.  
  
"So THAT'S why," Meesh said, flinging a strand of her black hair out of her face. I nodded and they all admired Joshua before the boys came over. They were shocked too and clearly more uncomfortable around my baby. But then Race took him into his arms and started cracking jokes about how he was the first to start a new generation of street rats and they had all better catch up. The rest of the boys laughed and relaxed.  
  
When we reached the lodging house, Kloppman put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a sad, fatherly look before smiling gently at Joshua and then turning away barking out something about 'even more brats to take care of'. I grinned, having missed his tough and gruff endearments.  
  
Besides Mockery, there were two new girls, one was ten, and the other eleven. They were introduced to me as Shakes and Becca. I nodded at them and they gave me long, dubious looks before Bourbon cuffed their heads and led me to not my old bunk, with Ladybug but a made-up single bed.  
  
"You're a vet now," she explained gesturing towards the rest of the room.  
  
"Nell works at Medda's and Flinch joined a convent." Bourbon snorted at this, but a fond smile crossed her lean face.  
  
"That's the safest place for the girl, poor bitch." Her tone of voice was gentle and belied her harsh words. Ladybug was there, bouncing around my ankles demanding to see my baby, along with Rags who had hit a growth spurt and looked like he was wearing short pants. A lot had apparently happened in the almost year I had been gone.  
  
After everyone had settled down, and I had put Joshua into yet another basket/cradle that lay right beside my bed, we all lounged around the boy's bunk room playing cards, laughing, and re-telling stories that I hadn't been around for. There was a sudden thundering of feet on the floor and a group of newsies burst in headed by Spot Conlon. He spread his arms wide, his golden-topped cane flashing in the gaslight as he cocked his head arrogantly.  
  
"Nevah feah, Brooklyn is heah. And now, we can celebrate!" Kloppman had wisely decided to 'take the night off'. I bit my lip before Meesh placed a hand on my shoulder and told me that for tonight, she would mind Joshua for me.  
  
"I know you have a lot of catching up to do, and I'm really tired. Too many late nights at Medda's and chasing around after unruly Brooklyn boys." I thanked her whole-heartedly and she waved it off with a smile, side-stepping a keg that Riddle hefted into the room, helped by another broad-shouldered Brooklyn boy and Mush.  
  
Somewhere in the midst of confusion, chaos and general mayhem that followed, and around the middle of a song that Mush and Kid Blink were drunkenly singing while Pistol stood behind them, mocking them with hand gestures and grotesque faces, Spot found me and pulled me out a window onto the fire escape.  
  
"I'm glad you're home, kid." I snorted at him calling me 'kid' and accepted a cigarette he held out to me. I asked him if he'd seen Joshua yet, and he shook his head no. I could sort of tell that he wasn't ready for that, so I let it be. We smoked companionably before he squared his shoulders and looked me directly in the eyes.  
  
"For the last time, I have to ask yah. I won't hold your answer against yah, I just have to know. Will you go home to Brooklyn with me?" I held his gaze and put a hand onto his shoulder.  
  
"Spot, I love yah but not like that. My place is here, with Racetrack and my son." Spot nodded and smiled but it wasn't a real smile, it had no peace about it. All the same he chastely kissed my cheek before stepping back inside the lodging house where I could hear him holler for a pint of beer.  
  
I leaned against the metal railings and listened with a small smile on my face, to Pistol and Blink arguing loudly, Davey trying to teach Jack how to talk properly, Mush trying to keep singing, Bourbon and Riddle exchanging jokes, Rags antagonizing the older newsies, Racetrack chasing Snipeshooter for stealing a cigar and I sighed happily.  
  
"You comin' inside sweet face?" Race stood at the window holding a hand out to me. I took it but not before I looked at him and kissed him swiftly. He looked at me with a crooked grin.  
  
"What was that for?"  
  
"It's just good to be home, Racetrack. It's damn good to be home." And home is where I was, and I was there to stay. No longer haunted by my brother's holding me under their tyrannical thumbs or by one horrible night that had changed me forever. I was just home, and nothing was going to take me away from it again.  
  
THE END  
  
A/N – I just want to thank all of you guys who took the time to read this story, start to finish. It really means a lot to me all the feedback that I got. I hope you continue to read my other stories and that you like them just as much as hopefully you liked this one. *sobs* I can't believe it's over...Ah well... On to the next one! –A/N  
  
SHOUT OUTS  
  
My dog ate my penname -- *twitches back* I do the twitchy thing a lot too. Sheesh Spot, whatta ho you are.  
  
Spot: *angelic look* Can I help it that I like butts and people grabbin' mine? *rubs head and grins roguishly at Spitball* Go ahead; you know you want to...  
  
Pokey7 – Eep thank you. I'm glad to see the story came together myself I was afraid that it was just going to be a mishmash of stuff happening. But it seemed to flow alright. Thank you once again for the character and for sticking with the story!  
  
NadaZimri – Haha...I read review responses not directed at me too, especially in Sapphy's stories. Her's are entertainin'. Anywho. Yes I have plans for a Spot/OC fic with some of my old character's thrown in, and a Kid Blink/Pistol fic. Plus I'm doin' that POTC one. So if you still want to read my stuff you can always try those on for size. I've already started both the Spot and Kid Blink one so it's only a matter of time...*evil cackle*  
  
JustDuck – Hahaha thank you! Yeah Joshua has a long name but if you notice Misery gave him Race's real name which is why his name is so long for such a little guy. Yeah I think even poor women had other women present during labor, especially midwives. It's not like they could afford doctors.  
  
Hehehe no Mush, Blink or Pistol along on Race's trip. Dude! IF YOU GIVE MUSH A COOKIE! That could be an awesome fic...  
  
*Spot gives Duck the Kleenex with a leer and wiggles his eyebrows up and down*  
  
Oh Lord...*hugs Duck* I've given up on his lecherous ass...  
  
Spot: Hey I resemble that remark...  
  
See?  
  
Kays14 – Muahaha...I hope this chapter answered all your questions because well, the story's over now!  
  
Pyro – Yeah, it's over. But I have lots more to write!  
  
Jaws – You sound like you have some pretty crappy days like me. But it gets better. Ouch, you know what's funny? I didn't get my license the first time either. My instructor felt so bad for me that he gave me all the right paperwork and told me to wait 60 days go get it. Love ya back *hugs* you have a great day too!  
  
Chelsea – Raceypants indeed!! *hugs Pistol and her weirdness*  
  
JamieBell – Yes, yes the little idiot...Ouch that had had to hurt...*winces*  
  
Racetaps – Yay for happy endings with Race! Drinks all around! :D 


	22. So Close

Ooh...I was so close to 200 reviews. I'm going to be an ass and do one last shout-out to answer some questions that people had in the last chapter. Then on to my next story. Which do you want to read first? Kid Blink or Spot? I have a feeling it's going to be Spot, but ya never know.  
  
DISCLAIMER : Come to think of it, I never gave proper rights to the character's Pokey and Meesh in my story. Pokey belongs to Pokey7 and Meesh belongs to Cabby1. Sorry guys *sheepish grin*  
  
Okay to answer some questions/shout outs  
  
Chelsea – I'm so glad you stuck through the whole thing, it made me happy to read your reviews every chapter  
  
Jaws – If you want to be in any of my stories, just email me your character profile and I'll add ya in, simple as that. I have no problem with doing that, Pokey and Meesh weren't my characters. I'm glad you had a good day on a day I updated!! That's rad, maybe it was because it was the last chapter? I'm crossin' my fingers for you and your driver's test. *bribes the driving instructor*  
  
There, that never hurts.  
  
Love Misery  
  
My dog ate my penname – Yes it's over... *sad face*  
  
Race: We love you to Spitball *hugs*  
  
Yes there will be a new story with Spot as the main character although most of the old ones will be in it as well. Then a Kid Blink/Pistol story. I'm also writing a POTC story too. Don't be sad! I will write more.  
  
Brooklyn Myst—I'm glad you liked the cheesiness. I was afraid it was too cheesy at some points. Thank you for reading my story, the next one isn't far off.  
  
Repeat – Yay thank you! I yell at my computer all the time my family thinks I'm nuts.  
  
Netangel182— Thank you so much, I'm glad you stuck with it girlie.  
  
JustDuck – Dude...I STILL say that would be an awesome fic, with Mush as the main character. 'If You Give A Newsie A Cookie'. Damn how original would that be? Let's do it.  
  
Spot: Duckie if you held still I could you know...'comfort' you. Ewww...*looks at tear-stained shoulder* Oh the trials of being a gentleman.  
  
*snort* Sure thing Spotface. I hope you keep reading my stories, Duck! *hug*  
  
NadaZimri – I DO feel privileged! I'm glad you like my writing and I hope you continue to do so. Yep Sapphy's shout outs rock to the maxx.  
  
BrkLnLady – Yay thank you so much dahling!!  
  
JamieBell – I still have a sort of sequel to write. It's funny because I almost had them stay in New Hampshire. You never know, they could decide to leave still...  
  
Kays14 – Thank you so much I'm glad you liked it! I have plenty of more stories on the way plus ideas for more in the making.  
  
Alright and that is that. I wonder if FFnet will let me post this chapter or does it break rules? I'm not sure. Anyway, on to my next story. Don't forget to let me know who you want to read about first, Spot or Blink.  
  
Thanks guys you all rock the casbah!  
  
--- Misery 


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